Miracle on Rice

I am everything Sushi is not.

To be candid, I can barely find my pants in the morning.  There are ketchup packets in my bathroom and I often run into the middle of busy streets without looking.  Matching my socks is a profound sartorial achievement.  I’ve broken two work-desk drawers in the last year.  There are 18 light bulb sockets in my apartment right now, and only two currently host a working bulb.  My 2008 tax returns are still wedged underneath my pantry cart, and I burn my feet whenever I make pasta.

In other words, I am not graceful.  Or elegant, well-composed, balanced, organized, attractive or at all formal. Throw in the fact that I typically don’t care for fish, and you’ll perhaps understand my surprise when the words “we should make sushi” slipped out of my mouth.
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Doughs Before Bros

Alternate working title:  Leaven and the Ragged Tiger

It should be no surprise that I am a crappy blogger.  The real question, however, is why. I’m not a bad blogger simply because I seldom post. At the worst, this makes me a LAZY blogger.

Sometimes I rationalize this by telling myself that I have to be “in the moment,” you know, interesting food I feel passionately about, with a humorous storyline and mesmerizing visuals.  A LOT has to fall into place for all of that to be in place, my friends.  But, again, that’s a rationalization.  Sometimes I’m just lazy.

I’m not even a bad blogger because I don’t proofread.  Or verify my links or fix my #*$& WordPress template or present my recipes consistently or make sure my blogroll is current.  This makes me a SLOPPY blogger.   You’ve seen the stove, right?   I’m working on it. I think the real reason I’m a crappy blogger?   I overlook the obvious.  Food I eat weekly The foods that take up most of my intellectual and culinary effort.  Stuff I read about think about, talk about.  I always think I’m at my best when I’m putting my cooking in the context of my “real” life – my struggles with time due to carelessness, my social ineptitude and relational crucibles, my willingness to go hungry rather than eat out of a box.

So, bread.

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