I’m sitting at the hair salon listening to the singer from 10,000 maniacs – oh Natalie Merchant; only took me 2 hours to recall her name – with a lotta horns behind her, dabbling at my bleeding mouth. I wolfed a slice of toast in between getting home from work and getting in the car to drive here. The crust of the toast stabbed the corner of my mouth and it bled – my mouth that is, not the toast – a shocking amount. It was my home made bread, with Swiss cheese and Siracha, so I still enjoyed the toast despite the blood. I have always been sort of disappointed at how difficult it is to put me off food – I wish I was a frailer flower, or someone who could just forget to eat – I’m sure I’d be pounds lighter. I almost always eat.
Case in point, I came home from the haircut and enjoyed a light pre-symphony supper of chex mix, tea, and rice pudding. I could blame some of this on a non-drinking boyfriend – but that wouldn’t be very nice. Maybe I should just say it’s because we’re Midwestern hicks. Other, more sophisticated people, would head downtown and have a pre-symphony cocktail at the art museum, but not us. Not tonight, anyhow. The pudding’s from Waitrose, maybe that ups our sophisticate rating just a touch …
Slow baked rice pudding
