Got a Good Reason (For Taking The Easy Way Out)

Freddy's Taco Truck True Confessions

Don't get me wrong, I love to cook. It's one of the joys of being in the world.  I love my tiny kitchen.  I love my knives and bowls, my setup, all of it.  But in the winter and working full time odd hours into the night and then waking up to open early has taken its toll on my ability to want to get vertical when it's time to nosh.  I get tired.  It's no mystery.  It's tiring.  But that's the beauty of living in New York where there is a bounty of options.  Still, when given choice, mine has been Freddy's Truck lately, all the time.  Who doesn't love the new girl?  It's all the color and variety I love, without exuding the energy. 

Try Not to Confuse it With What You Do to Survive

Quick-style semi home-made pizzas

A low band-width dinner.  No mozzarella, no energy.  Semi-home-made pizzas with cheddar cheese, Italian sausage, turkey pepperoni, green olives and canned pizza dough, spread into two crusts.  I spiced up a can of tomato sauce (in the can) by adding oregano, garlic and onion powder and red pepper flakes.  Stir it up, it's good to good, no need to heat it through, just pour it on the par-baked dough and spread thinly. 

I've watched some TikTok quickie meals lately that featured loads of processed crap thrown into a crock-pot as a quick dinner solution.  I'm all for time-saving measures, but I think we can do slightly better by grating our own cheeses, allowing limited processed salty additions and ensuring most ingredients in these weird concoctions stay real.  

How Deep is Your Love?

Thanksgiving day spent solo as P drove back to spend with family.  When you know a day is supposed to be special, there is a bit of pressure to experience something unique.  As I was daydreaming out my kitchen window in the morn, which is a daily ritual while waiting for my almond milk to heat for the coffee, I began fixating on the backyard tree.  How alone it is out there, almost imprisoned between the buildings.  I wonder if it talks to the neighboring trees underground.  I wonder if it feels appreciated, or feels anything at all.  As I kept focusing on it, it seemed to become taller and taller.  I had to crook my neck to see the top.  I remember when the crew of Mexican tree-cutters came and trimmed all its branches after a storm broke off a giant limb that fell on my downstairs neighbor's patio furniture.  How long has it stood here?  What was it like as a small tree? Were the fences erected sometime years later?   I suddenly felt such deep respect and gratitude for this perennial giant full of stoic wisdom. 

All of these questions after a brownie bite and latte.  

This gratitude was all I needed in order to later make and enjoy this slow simmered ragu sauce over perfectly al dente spaghetti noodles.