I’m a little flustered. My gig at Martha is almost up, so I’m desperately trying to figure out what comes next. That’s pretty much all I did today…with the exception of a quick trip to the petanque tournament on Smith Street and making pizza. (I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again — *this* is a good recipe.)
But then stuff started going terribly wrong.
I made brownies with eggs from Martha’s farm yesterday (very exciting, by the way…three of them were kind of pink; one was blue…and the pink ones were really tiny). The brownies were *supposed* to be for this friend of mine in Seattle who has had a rough time lately — it’s the super-sturdy brownie recipe I blogged about recently…that I think will travel well with enough foil, Ziploc bags, cardboard…and a padded envelope. But my apartment is mass chaos, as per usual…and the new cat is now capable of jumping up on things — like, say, my table — that he couldn’t reach before…and so while I had my hands full with the goat cheese and the basil, my little bundle of joy jumped up on the table and ran across the brownies and now I don’t know what to do. Do I just send them anyway without saying a word to the poor guy who they are supposed to cheer up? Or do I confess that my cat ran across them with his dirty little paws, thus rendering them gross and disgusting? Do I just throw them away? Or am I being a germaphobe and should I just eat them myself?
It doesn’t feel right to send them now…but it feels like such a waste — *especially* for the eggs from Martha’s farm.
And…I read somewhere that the best way to store basil (as in, for that pizza) is to put the stems in water…and to never, EVER refrigerate it because basil HATES to be cold. So…that’s what I did with the fresh basil I purchased yesterday…and this morning it was all wilty. Then my mother told me that the only time the stems-in-the-water trick works is when the basil is super-fresh. So…I salvaged what basil I could for my pizza…but the rest of it is pretty useless now, I’m afraid. More waste.
THEN…as I was about to return to my job applications, there was a big ol‘ “POP!” as if a light bulb exploded…and the tin lid on a can of treacle that a friend brought back from Ireland — oh, I don’t know…two years ago? — EXPLODED off and flew across the room and scared the living daylights out of me.
So, long story short, I’m kind of a mess. In three weeks I will be unemployed. My friend in Seattle won’t be cheered up because I can’t send him dirty brownies. And my cat is driving me nuts. What’s a girl to do?