I couldn't let the dumb pea shoots get me down.
I should have looked at recipes for how to cook them. But I didn't, and the pea shoots were vile.
Then again, just yesterday I told Cranky that perhaps one reason I'm not so frisky in the kitchen these days is because I'm always forcing myself to create new flavors, new combinations, without recipes. Which can be tiring. Even if they taste old and familiar; as long as I hadn't used a cookbook.
I would use a cookbook!
That sounded like the solution. I would raid my numerous cookbooks, even if only for outlines, and get productive again. Rest my tired brain and bring forth food.
This morning, before the sun came up, I started fantasizing about a white bean and pasta soup. Where would it go? What tastes, textures? By the time I got out of bed, the dream soup also had chopped Savoy cabbage and hacked shiitake mushrooms. All it would need is some vegetable broth, scallions, a dash of tamari and a dash of sesame oil.
Very mild, yet rich. Easy to eat, but filling. I should write this recipe down; I may want to consult it again.
But there was no recipe.