I've been eating out a LOT the last couple weeks. My husband got a new job (so we had to celebrate), I had a birthday (so I needed to drown my aging sorrows), we went out with friends, and overall I've just generally stopped feeling like cooking. Eating out is just more fun. And less mess.
On my way home from last night's oh-my-god-good dinner, I was thinking in my post-drunk haze of how lovely it is to eat good food in a place where people cook it and clean it up for you. I didn't learn to cook until a couple years ago, so before that I sort of ate out by necessity. I mostly eat in now, and I really do like to cook, but I hadn't realized until this latest round of decadence how much I still really enjoy eating out. I likened it, in my head, to washing clothes in a machine instead of beating them on a rock or something. Yes, I technically COULD wash my clothes without benefit of a washing machine (yes I could, hush all you naysayers), but aren't washing machines so much nicer?
In the same vein (not to be confused with, "my efforts were invane," quote taken from an email a friend just received from an idiot), I wish Baltimore's zoning laws allowed quail, as I had quail eggs for the second time in my life last night and I looooooooove them. Sadly, I will have to stick with chickens. That's okay, I like chicken eggs, too.
0 comments:
Post a Comment