Fear my mad baking skills!
Last night I decided to cook again. This doesn't happen nearly as often as it should and often I end up indulging in the horrible glory that is the Hot Pocket. This is not unlike spending every night at home for a month and then partying your ass off for three days straight: you tend not to remember a lot and your stomach hurts.
So, last night's dinner was another meat thing in a pasty (I do love the Cornish pasties). Some random website had a recipe for a meat pie. The meats? I'm glad you asked. Ham, proscuitto and salami. A pork-fest for the taste buds (in retrospect, "pork-fest for the taste buds" carries, quite possibly, the worst connotations one can imagine).
It turned out damn good and the roommates loved it. Of course, they were also...otherwise incapacitated. Lucky bitches get make out like kings every time I cook! Steph, if you're reading this, I demand reparations or, at least, sixer of my beloved MGD.
So, yes. Like Yan, I, too, can cook.
Last night I decided to cook again. This doesn't happen nearly as often as it should and often I end up indulging in the horrible glory that is the Hot Pocket. This is not unlike spending every night at home for a month and then partying your ass off for three days straight: you tend not to remember a lot and your stomach hurts.
So, last night's dinner was another meat thing in a pasty (I do love the Cornish pasties). Some random website had a recipe for a meat pie. The meats? I'm glad you asked. Ham, proscuitto and salami. A pork-fest for the taste buds (in retrospect, "pork-fest for the taste buds" carries, quite possibly, the worst connotations one can imagine).
It turned out damn good and the roommates loved it. Of course, they were also...otherwise incapacitated. Lucky bitches get make out like kings every time I cook! Steph, if you're reading this, I demand reparations or, at least, sixer of my beloved MGD.
So, yes. Like Yan, I, too, can cook.
Always a good choice.