I calibrate my bites to make sure the bread and dip end at the same time, the meat has enough sauce until the end, and most importantly, and I can’t stress this enough, the last bite of the meal is of my most favorite thing on the table.
When I am around cookbook, time doesn’t just stand still, it’s delicious.
I don’t want my waiter to look like a doctor about to perform open-heart surgery. I don’t want my table to be separated by plastic dividers from other tables; how will I stare at what they have ordered when it arrives and watch as they eat it. I don’t want the kitchen staff to be overheating and fainting from all the layers of “protective” gear they are now legally obliged to wear.
Froot Loops does not taste good anymore; there I said it. It was hard for me to admit this to myself. The box is still as flamboyant, the loops are even more colorful, and the cereal is still crunchy, but sadly these are the superficial traits of the cereal. Its spirit has been crushed. Froot Loops is now a soulless breakfast item; Toucan Sam an imposter.
Don’t get me wrong, watching Mukbangs has become an integral part of my life, that I am happy to indulge in a few times a day. But it is no replacement for the real thing: staring at strangers eating in public until they ask me to stop.
Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee is my source for high-quality coffee erotica.
Dirty Food Confessions: I ate fried chicken that was in a box on a table unattended. The dirty here refers to to the confessions, and not the food; or so I choose to believe.
Eating with this friend has become an exercise in patience and self-restraint. I don’t think he is trying to be annoying, it just comes naturally to him.
The immense satisfaction I felt after making unicorn poop cookies has propelled me to declare 2019 the year of the cooking goals.
My theory is that food that is extremely hot and recently cooked does not have the time to marinate in its own deliciousness. Once a dish cools down it becomes a deeper, stronger version of itself.