Hardcore foodies will recognize the title as the book by Harold McGee (I recently acquired a practically free copy that was to be discarded by a public library), but it is a pretty accurate description of what the past couple of weeks have been like for me.
Let's take this morning for instance. I woke up, starving as usual, and excitedly ran out to get the paper. It is Wednesday after all, the day that the Washington Post publishes its food section. Next I made my usual hearty breakfast - eggs, hashbrowns etc and ate while reading about the latest local food news and watched the Cooking Channel.
As I cleaned up, the phone rang and it was a family friend who had invited us over for dinner. As we discussed the menu, it transpired that she would very much like us to bring dessert. My brain had to quickly switch gears from the roasted vegetable cous cous I had been planning to bring. Maybe the panna cotta that I had been wanting to try? On second there are kids in attendance and a cheesecake might be more kid-friendly. Of course I'll make a blueberry coulis to go on top.
Next on the agenda was watering the garden on our deck, a modest selection of flowers, herbs, and tomatoes. My mind wandered to my recurring day dream of converting my grandparents' estate in Newport into a bed and breakfast. I have already planned the vegetable garden and chicken run for fresh veggies and eggs, and today I add a wood burning cob oven made of recycled material where I'll turn out fresh bread and pizza.
So here I am currently, putting off going to the grocery store because writing is much more fun. Maybe I'll make something easier and more fool proof than a cheesecake. A cobbler perhaps? I'll have to do a little research before I go to the store.
The memory of last night's dinner is still lingering in my head. I grilled some beautiful spice rubbed heritage pork chops from a local farm that tasted more like a juicy steak than the porkchops I'm used to, alongside some local zucchini and corn. Oh and local potatoes roasted with some rosemary and thyme.
Maybe I'll have the leftovers for lunch? Now my thoughts are turning to lunch and I'm hungry again. These days the phrase "I'll go get lunch" often means going around the side of our house to pick some gorgeous tomatoes lovingly grown by my young neighbors, and supplementing with fresh basil picked off our deck.
Suddenly I am reminded of the crab cookout that we will be having on Saturday. I can't forget to call the crab company today.
What a life. I move seamlessly from one meal to the next. I know that it won't last, but I am enjoying every minute of it.