Cooking notes? Ha! Fooled you! There are none!
In other words:
I ate the same thing, lunch and dinner, almost every day for the first week of December. Must. Readjust. Dish. Sizes. To. Account. For. Deployed. Husband. Preferably before death by culinary boredom.
The second week of December? Traveling on business in the Washington D.C. area. All restaurants, mostly good, but none of it cooked (or funded) by me.
During week three I used up odds and ends in the fridge before driving up to my parents’ home.
Ever since then? I’ve been eating. And eating. And eating. Contrary to popular belief, my mother did not cook routine feasts of cream, butter, and chocolate in my childhood. Those were for holidays or special meals with guests. Mom’s a talented everyday cook, but dessert was a relatively rare treat. However, when all her adult offspring return to the nest for Christmas, she pulls out all the stops (and Dad pulls out his wallet): beef stew with parsley dumplings, pancakes, creamy mashed potatoes, brie souffle, kringle (a traditional Danish pastry), raspberry or applesauce crepes, veggies, prime rib with gravy, yorkshire pudding, shepherds pie, cocoa, fondue, spinach dip, roast chicken, shrimp and salmon for the crazy people who actually like seafood. All that, plus an endless stream of Christmas cookies. I cook an occasional dish to help out – chocolate fondue, ham, a salad, fresh bread – but mostly I eat and make approving noises.
Expect a cooking resurgence in January. My amazing mother-in-law sent me the Marth Stewart cookbook several weeks ago, and I just inherited Mom’s 1983 copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume II. No, she didn’t die. She just received a beautiful boxed set of Volumes I and II for Christmas from Dad.
You can look at previous (real) cooking notes by clicking on the “Cooking Notes” link in the sidebar.