Apathy

I conclude, after six months of emptiness, that cooking is no fun alone.

I throw things together in a frying pan and hope they come out alright. This one did - mushrooms, green onions and Stilton.

I tried to get Mike to eat Stilton on Saturday night. He hated it - he told me the after taste resembled poop. This kind of turned me off the Stilton for the evening, which I was eating with baked Lays. The grocery store below my new apartment doesn't carry rice crackers.  Some things are going to have to change....

Mike made me a rack of New Zealand free range lamb and I made garlic mashed. Mike doesn't buy real butter.

Mike, if you read this, you need to buy real butter.

My pictures of Montreal are probably better then the food pics. I wandered aimlessly around in the rain and shot with my Canon rebel. I arrived two minutes past six to the Cafe Rico and they shut. I pushed my nose up against the screen but they wouldn't let me in. My nose was wet and cold, and so was I, and I wanted to buy rice crackers but people in the Plateau only like artisan breads woven in different shapes and only to be cut and served at home.



Bastards.