I decided to finally chef up and decide it’s time get back to it even if the one basket of laundry I washed is still staring at me.
And Greek Lemon Potatoes. Sweet sweet greek lemon potatoes.
Have saved me many times.
And I’ve been thinking how little I’ve cooked in past months or when I was on benders not posting anything and focusing on writing.
I remember telling my dad last week how weird it feels to not eat on a bell after you get used to it. Like in a hospital setting but really a military setting is convenient here. Going to the cafeteria as a kid and when it feels like it it’ll never end to being a forager extraoirdinaire until eventually you start cooking and peep-toeing you may be good at it. But when chef loose their luster…darstardedly in torment. 45 minutes away and I’m so mad about it yyyuhhh ahh when will I know it’s good.
When that’s that most depression-meal status of how I’ve cooked that meal ever.
But 45 minutes!!
My most recent attire was air-frying a fuck ton of elk steaks and just eating it with roasted broccoli and fries.
Scavenger Meal status but if I served it pretty it could be expensive.
We’ll go with the latter on the matter.
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