Friday, November 29, 2002

Since it's still the first day of this haphazardly conceived weblog, I feel free to fiddle with the title.  I've always loved the word bungalow ever since Nancy Drew stepped into one and solved The Bungalow Mystery.   However, before you go salivating over any images of me toiling in a pristine, subway-tile lined kitchen with white cabinets and an old-fashioned icebox, let me set you straight:  my kitchen is no museum piece.  Pleasant, spacious and painted lemon yellow by the previous owners, it lets me get the job done.  I can't see getting too hung up on ideas of trendy authenticity, even though they appeal to me. Eventually, no matter what kind of kitchen you have, you know it all boils down to this: standing in front of a chopping block, hacking an onion to pieces. The bungalow itself.  Red Wing, Minnesota   comment []10:40:38 PM     Influences:  Nigella.  Julia.  MFK Fisher.  Elizabeth David.  I never trust a recipe I find on the Internet. comment []10:48:53 AM     They say the average family eats the same 10 meals over and over again.  I don't know who they are but what are they trying to do?  Bore me out of the kitchen? I'd like to have a good 40 meals in my repetoire before 2003 is up.  That may sound easy, but they have to be 40 meals that I can prepare without losing my sanity and can eat without losing the remnants of my waistline.  On top of this, the meals also have to satisfy the unadventurous palates of husband, Dean, age 39; son, Kipp, age 3; and stepson, John, age 9.  The sly mission, of course, is to turn their palates into adventurous ones without their even noticing. So, let the adventure begin.  comment []10:30:51 AM

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