and we want french fries. Mark is out of town, in Florida, the bum. So we're eating like they did in Mermaids 'cause women only cook balanced to show off for men. Once the master departs the premises, the nutritional gatekeeper takes a break. Why is that?
Tonight we're having: mango "milkshakes"* (made from Anne Mendelson's Milk), homemade french fries and shortbread (both cooked out of Jennifer McLagan's Fat.) I was leaning toward McLagan's salted caramel tart, the photo of which is one of the loveliest things I've ever laid eyes on, but Isabel was adamant about shortbread.
Gonna cook some of the fries in oil and some in lard, for comparison purposes. I wish I had some duck fat. (Owen just read this over my shoulder and said, "Well, I'm glad you DON'T have duck fat.")
It's one of those mornings when I feel so lazy I almost want to let him stay home so I don't have to get dressed and drive to the elementary school. Have considered going in my robe, but then how will I ever attract a mate? Oh, wait. . . forgot myself for a moment. Sorry, Mark.
*there's a trick, but I'm not telling until tomorrow when the "shakes" have been drunk.