I’m sitting in my apartment eating leftovers from dinner last night. Last night I made a dish with Israeli Cous-Cous, Sweet Potato, tofu, peppers and onions, and bananas and the entire spice rack emphasis on the curry. It’s delish. If you’ve never had bananas and curry, you’ve never lived. The problem is that it is just as good cold. I sit hear eating it wishing that someone would come over and be hungry so that I could share my amazing invention with them. Instead I will sit typing into my computer hoping that the internet provides the friendship that allows me to share my food creations.
The other night I made Bacon infused tofu. With mushrooms and onions and love. I put that on my agave fried corn tortillas that had been smeared in Wasabi Mayo. It was also delicious. But entirely eaten by me.
I need a girlfriend. Not because I need to ejaculate into something. (My trash can serves a purpose). And not because I need to cuddle and talk about my feelings with someone (My computer serves a purpose). Instead its because I need the affirmation that my kitchen adventures are not fruitless (pun very much intended) and that I have an incredible ability to make my stove into the setting for a beautiful misadventure. Somebody besides me needs to love my cooking. It’s so good.