French onion soup. I know I already made this, but I can’t help it. I just love it so much! And this batch was the best batch I’ve ever made. I’m not usually one to repeat recipes. I try to diversify and try new things, largely in part because I don’t use recipes except to get vague ideas of how things should go, and that usually involves 5 or 6 recipes for the same food, with the parts I liked stolen from each. I never write any of these conglomerations down, which is probably why I can’t recreate the same tastes more than once.
Now, keeping that information on the back burner, Chris and I have decided we’d like a butler. This started because Chris gets completely inconsolable when he has to mow the lawn. He HATES it. He always spends the whole week yammering on about his “manly duties” and how he’s going to get up early and show that lawn who’s boss. Then, when the morning arrives, he clumps down the stairs visibly upset from the moment he awakens. He goes outside and mows the lawn, then comes in soaking wet with a storm cloud on his face that would frighten small children. He cannot speak until he’s showered, and if he does it’s crankily demanding where the towels are in a less-than-sweet tone of voice. Once he’s showered, he’ll come down and still look in poor spirits until he’s had a glass of water and flomped down on a kitchen chair. After he completes a soliloquy about how much he hates mowing the lawn, he is in a much better mood. Until the next weekend…
So we’ve determined that we need to hire someone else to mow the lawn for him, thus allowing his weekend mornings to remain free of despair. I countered with the idea that we just get an actual gardener. I love that idea! But only if it’s a really grumpy old man who yells at me about “his” rosebushes, even though it’s MY yard. Then the conversation turned to other auxiliary staff we’d like to have, and the one we both agreed on was a butler. But, even though we are by no means destitute, we certainly cannot afford a butler, nor can we afford the type of estate that would necessitate a butler. Nor does either of us fight crime from an underground lair. It’s a rough situation.
So the solution is that Chris is actually beginning construction on his medical website, which will undoubtedly make him millions because it’s a genius idea, and I am actually going to start writing my *less than traditional* cookbook. While I believe my prose is more than enough to qualify me for a book, I imagine any potential publishers will probably require me to supply recipes. And I have none written down.
The bottom line is that I am going to post a sample article at some point tonight or tomorrow, along with the recipe, and request that you read it and that one of you tries the recipe out, as written, to ensure I’m not completely delusional. Can you guys handle that?
Also, I have the results of the August Daring Baker’s Challenge to post tonight, and a story about the cakes I made yesterday, and how much I hated it. Okay, I have to go assess a list of ingredients, and determine the numeric equivalent of “some” cayenne pepper. I feel like I’m being kept down by the man. At least, I do until I remember that I never have to return to corporate America, and that my book will make me enough money to go totally solar and get “off the grid.”