Jul. 1st, 2013

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Yesterday I went to a hockey game, and a bunch of people came back afterwards for drinking and hanging out and an impromptu supper of pork-and-beans (with a chilli dimension) and rice and cabbage.

Tonight I'm hoping that most of the same people (for they are yogi, by and large) will be coming back again; and this is pretty much the hottest day of the year so far, so of course I've lit the grill. Having mastered the big-hunk-of-smoked-pork (I've done it twice!), I thought I'd see if the same technique works on big hunks of beef. In case it doesn't, I've also got some corned beef which I've smeared with mustard and honey and wrapped in foil, and I'm going to bake that also on the grill. And then there's some sweet potatoes, and I'm going to see if they'll oblige me by baking on the grill too. Only then there's the other half of the cabbage, and I can't think of any way to cook that on the grill so I guess I'll have to light up the cooker after all.

After all of which, of course, no one will actually come, but hey. I will have learned things.

Lunch was shrimp and mango and avocado salad, dressed with lime. That was really nice.

Inevitably, all this cooking and the concomitant shopping and the not-entirely-relevant laundry makes me feel that I have done nothing with the day. It is a perilous task, to be dependent on your own sense of productivity. I ought to be checking proofs frantically, but really I just want to take a bottle of beer and go sit in the sun, the way I feel I haven't been able to all day.

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desperance

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