A highlight for me was our afters gathering, at which time I (in spite of having consumed many beers beforehand) wielded a blender and skillet quite handily to produce life-restoring crêpes. Now, I'm not given to bragging about too many things (driving instructor ability is one), but I make some damn fine Frenchy pancakes. I think it's the Québécoise ancestry (while the Irish ancestry allowed me to soldier forth to make said crêpes without being hampered by alcohol). Granted, my flipping could use some work, but they still taste pretty great.
This is an amusing photo, taken by Toby, of the chef enjoying the fruits of her 3:30am labors:
Lest there's any confusion, we did not set out a chair for Gus. Rather, he stole it from Deirdre after she was lured away by Obie's feline charms (or possibly the crêpes... either way). Of course, I find it a bit creepy that he and I are displaying the same rapt attention in the same direction. Either someone was talking to us, or there was a giant piece of packing tape stuck to the wall (Gussy loves his packing tape... it's his favorite snack to barf up on my floor at 5am).Anyway, it was a good night. I was only experiencing mild back pain then, whereas now I feel as if my right arm is being ratcheted up to my temple via the scapula. Unpleasant. Et tu, Aleve?
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* Also, I'm a hack.
1 comment:
Seriously, those crepes were amazing and I'm not just saying this because I was drunk. They were light and airy and smothered with Nutella (I did that part).
I will never cease to be in awe of your ability to cook anything more than a poptart at 3:45am, after much alcoholic indulgence.
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