I can't seem to kick-start my winter cooking. I dream of braises and breads and cookies, but I'm still eating pretty much cocktail party buffet-style: a little charcuterie, some cheeses, toasted nuts.
I admit I've dabbled in the seasonal requisites: the roast beef for Christmas and the Hoppin' John for New Year's Day.
Yesterday I stirred up a batch of my signature slow-cooked scrambled eggs (they come out creamy and unlumpy), served with sauteed chanterelles and a side of roasted potatoes.
The other day we defrosted a bag of homemade (homegrown) tomato sauce for spaghetti.
And like that.
But I just can't get my stew thing on, probably because I'm less and less interested in meat.
Ho, well. We're going to a meat-centric restaurant tomorrow for Cranky's birthday (can you say early Social Security benefits?). Cranky loves a little steak now and then. I may just order soup and duck-fat french fries, hold the cow.
But what's really on my mind?