I must have been in some sort of France-induced cooking rut. Here we were, home for just a few days, and I already felt like avoiding the kitchen. This kind of thing does not happen.
But that's what freezers are there for: helping us avoid self-examination. I don't want to cook. Why? Is it jet lag? Could be. Maybe I left my mojo in... wait a second -- I have a freezer packed with food I made myself! I AM cooking!
Ah, precious frozen meat sauce. I just defrost it and make some pasta, and Margy is well fed. One grueling day spent hunched over the stove yields so many happy returns.
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