Yesterday, as I was signing the UPS log, the UPS guy leaned over and touched my big toe. And said, "Nice."
Strangers don’t touch strangers, dude. He wasn’t freaky; he seemed very nice. I don’t mean to, or even think I should, make a complaint. Apparently he must appreciate chipped sparkly polish.
But it was weird.
(But the reason he was there was fabulous: I was receiving a box of Penzey’s spices from Gwen, who sent them in response to my plea for vegetable recipe ideas. I’m so excited! Now I have to read their catalog and figure out how to use them, but hey, one of the spice mixtures even has chipotle in it! And there’s this shallot-pepper mix that looks so good, and a bunch of others! I’m spoiled and happy and learning how to cook!)
(Aside numero dos: Although I am cooking way more nowadays, I’m still pretty flippin’ clueless. I decided to attempt bhindi masala the other night, a crunchy, spicy, Indian okra dish. It called for chopped green chilies. I wasn’t sure how many to chop, so I sliced up half the basket, maybe about forty of them. I thought they were like little green bell peppers. When sauteing them, I noticed I couldn’t breathe, all-of-a-sudden-like, and had to open the windows and turn on the fan. Then I ate some of the okra with some rice, and thought it was mighty hot. And then my mouth heated up more. And more. And more. I thought I might never eat again. I didn’t even bother with ice water or milk, I just licked the ice cube trays in an attempt to cool off my mouth. Finally I referred to the recipe, where I found that I should have chopped TWO green chilies. Damn it.)
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