Tuesday, January 8, 2019

Open the Black Bean Cans





I’ve gone through most of my meals this week.  I don’t have many left.  My wife went to Shanghai for a few days and I was left, on point.  After the Christmas turkey left overs were gone, I made a few Chinese dishes one night.  I tried my luck at an Indian curry and some Saag Peneer the following evening.  We did Italian last evening.  I’m losing momentum.  Tonight it is only three of us and my daughter has given me the thumbs up on burritos.



When I returned from the market with the bags on the counter it was only four in the afternoon.  I should have sat down and gotten an hour’s work in but I poured a drink and with the meal I’d mapped out at the market still in my mind, I would at least get the rice started.  May as well open the black bean cans and slice these peppers 

Before long most of everything that needed to happen, save cooking the tortillas was done.  Now it was nearly five and somehow that simple transition from afternoon to evening, accompanied by the waning winter light, sapped most of my must-work energy.  I looked over a proposal and began to reread it but soon my wife walked in and my daughter was downstairs and the smells of the kitchen pulled everyone to the common space. 



The guacamole was tasty.   Beans heaped on the tortilla with salsa and sour cream and the guac on top.  No one did much talking.  But damn that rice.  It was the first thing I’d made because it always takes so long to cook and it was still wonky.  I think that two-for-one ratio on water to rice is suspect.  It’d been sitting there steaming for well over an hour. 



Saturday, 12/29/18

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