Yesterday I pitched out the white bean soup, which wasn’t too tasty. I don’t know if the culprit was too much rosemary or the home-made broth I had labored over, trying to find a substitute for chicken broth. The cereal mix and nuts and crackery stuff we call Christmas trash…I think I overcooked it, perhaps because I have not set my kitchen wall clock back since the dratted time-change in November. This morning I burned the oatmeal. And cooking is my day job.
There’s only one conclusion to draw…after over a half-century of form life, I’m just not getting the hang of it. It’s time for spontaneous awakening.