Self-imposed (mostly) medical house arrest has rekindled my interest in cooking. I’m the one who cooks around here, and who shops, and going to supermarkets is my only permissible journey now (except taking out food at Jean’s Place).
Maria claims I’m not doing what she tells me to do, but I disagree. I think I am. I stay away from groups of people and keep my distance in the market.
Nobody seems to want to get too close to me either.
Tonight, I made a light Spring Pizza. Organic flour, pesto, sliced pears, Apple Fig goat cheese, and baked kale. Out of pine nuts.
Pre-baked the crust, and then cooked the pizza for 14 minutes at 475 degrees. It smells ground. With it, a fruit salad and some Raspberry Hard Cider from Vermont.
(I’m washing up often with Mrs. Meyers soap, said to be as good or better than sanitizing fluid or lotion. And available.)