square one.
I’m making chicken broth today. I had some backs and feet in the the freezer so I thawed them in the microwave, roasted them at high heat, and then plopped them in my stock pot (and fitted colander) along with water, a sad carrot, onion, lots of garlic, limp cilantro, half a jalapeño, a parmesan heel, and a lemon that was wrinkling in a wooden bowl. As it simmers (I like to do eight+ hours), I’m watching my favorite Boston Celtics vs. the Phoenix Suns. For lunch I had a heap of eggy tuna salad and side of kimchee cukes (basically this), so I think dinner’s just gonna be a few handfuls of pasta boiled in the new broth. With a squeeze from (a fresher) lemon.
Broth is restorative, and I’m craving it because this has been a damp, busy week of doing things outside. I watched my second favorite NBA team beat the Lakers (as the Kings tend to) at Crypto (I detest calling it that). One of my cousins (he’s a sports agent) got us some lovely seats, and on the walk-up to the arena, I …
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