Tales from Cheffing Around
The December sun languished sneaky and low, an inch or two above the afternoon horizon until I made a left turn. Then it sharpened its rays. Squinting, I eased my sneaker off the gas, flipped the visor down, and stretched into the rectangle of shade …
Some recipes get stuck in my craw. My mouth already watering with anticipation, I follow the words on the page as though they are biblical scripture, adhering to every measurement and direction like my life depended on it. When the final result is markedly far …
“I don’t want to cook tonight,” I pleaded with Francis, a bit whinier than necessary. It was a balmy late August evening and I wanted to sit outside and pretend it was a normal summer night. I wanted to act as if everything was fine. …
The December sun languished sneaky and low, an inch or two above the afternoon horizon until I made a left turn. Then it sharpened its rays. Squinting, I eased my sneaker off the gas, flipped the visor down, and stretched into the rectangle of shade …