As a chef, I am a great garage mechanic.
For two reasons ... First, I have a very simple palate: I am very much a meat-and-potatoes guy. When I find a very simple combination that I like, e.g., meat loaf and mac and cheese, I tend to stick with it. I am not prone to experimentation: if it ain't broke don't fix it. My palate is about as sophisticated as that of the android in the first Terminator movie … and about as ravenous. Secondly, I am clumsy in the kitchen in terms of handling pots, pans, dishes, knives, etc. … basically any cooking implement. I break stuff. Listening to me in the kitchen – spare yourself the sickening spectacle of actually watching – is much like I imagine hearing the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Except not as graceful. Nevertheless, my wife and I enjoy wa
Several weeks ago, as this “Skeptic’s Column” column is written (14 Jan), I came down over the weekend with my usual annual case of the “cruds”: stuffy nose, scratchy throat, sinus drainage, etc., etc. No fever, but inside my head, I could hear the wheezing, especially as I lay in bed at night. It sounded like a gunny-sack filled with cats being tortured. (Apologies to cat lovers. I am one. But it sounded like it sounded. So sue me.) Worst of all, I could only log perhaps 2 hours sleep per night. The tortured-cat symphony kept me awake.
So next morning, I hauled my sleep-deprived, zombie-ized, bleary-eyed, Walking Dead carcass into one of those walk-in clinics a couple miles from my house. (My wife drove the car. I did not trust myself.) The doctor on duty took my temp and
In honor of the families spending Mother's Day together today and the lonely ones who might like to give their inner child a gift to get through this hard day.
POULTRY IN MOTION!
I just hope you didn't eat fried chicken before seeing this! Have a happy day!