Tuesday, February 8, 2011









I'm sure I've said this before, but in the extreme seasons I tend to be pretty lazy.  I don't put a heck of a lot of effort into anything.  My clothes, my food, my social life.  In the height of summer we hunker down at the cottage, and in February we hole-up in our apartment.  Neither end of the hot/cold spectrum is particularly inspiring, so we rely on the go-to's, the things we can do with our eyes closed.  Every day in some variation of jeans, sweater, boots.  Plain and simple.  Weather-resistant and cozy.  Much like our food.

Tonight's jeans came in the form of a centre-cut pork chop.  Its sweater, a swath of Israeli couscous, and its boots a green salad with lemon mustard vinaigrette.  In February (in these parts) every outfit needs a toque, and every meal too: Half an apple diced and softened alongside the pork, boozed-up with a bit of white wine and bourbon, made-syrupy and spread on top.

Nothing fancy.  Just good.    




6 comments:

  1. WTF? This is your definition of lazy? Lazy means ordering pizza, then answering the door in your pajamas while trying to hide the shame from the delivery guy.

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  2. I agree with mina! Your lazy is my definition of pretty perfect!

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  3. Ha!
    Ladies! We do a whole lot of ordering-in, too. And the worst kind: Swiss Chalet! Mushy fries and all! We're not fancy.

    I meant, lazy for actually cooking something . . .

    Stop judging me.

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  4. Yeah. My version of a lazy meal is a bottle of Raw Power (screw cap, no cork) and Cheetos.

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  5. I'd like to add that 'fancy' is also in the eye of the beholder.

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