This is a pinkies up kinda sandwich, and don’t you let anyone try to tell you otherwise.
When you set out to make the kind of cute adorable tartlets that people “ooo” and “ahh” over as if they were a newborn child, but end up with…Quasimodo. In pastry crust rhubarb compote form.
It’s really a test of character as to whether or not you can hold your head up high, and with all the disdain and snootiness you can muster, say to anyone who dares criticize, “They’re rustic.”
Should I ever find myself walking down the street at the same exact moment as Will Smith, I shall casually but firmly pull him aside and ask, “How do you do it?!?”
And then when he starts to blather about the ins and outs of balancing a music/movie/tv career all while being a loving father and a faithful husband blah blah blah.
I shall shush him. Roll my eyes. And say, “No, not your career, silly. Your SKIN!”
Because seriously people, I saw Men in Black 3 this weekend and that man has not aged a day in the twenty two years that I’ve known him. That epidermis of his is as baby-fresh and wrinkle-free as it was back in his Fresh Prince days.
In case you weren’t convinced yesterday that fava beans are well worth your time, check out my recipe for spinach, fava bean and quinoa cakes over at Marcus Samuelsson’s blog!
You are reading this post on Eats Well With Others at https://joanne-eatswellwithothers.com. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the author and or owner of Eats Well With Others. All rights reserved by Joanne Bruno.
When you spend the better part of four days not moving as per your doctor’s instructions to LET YOUR KIDNEYS HEAL, for christ’s sake.
(This may or may not have been after you suggested to him that you go to running practice on Saturday morning. Aching nephrons and all. You’re a runner, after all. And as such…you feel no pain.)
The time eventually comes when you have to dig your spoon out of that jar of nutella you’ve been self pity-eating. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps. And start shelling.
If you’ve never woken up to your significant other clutching their right upper flank, curled up in fetal position and moaning about kidney pain.
Well then you’re obviously not dating a medical student.
And you obviously are not my boyfriend. Because that is exactly, verbatim, what he had to deal with at 3AM on Thursday morning.
Welcome to Eats Well With Others, where we take a vegetable-and-cupcake laden approach to life (always with a bit of laughter on the side)!
Summer
