food

so i went to the market yesterday and bought two large "pommes de terre sucre," which i thought meant "sweet potatos", because "pomme de terre" means potato and "sucre" means sweet. i thought this was a fairly obvious translation. i think i was wrong. when i peeled it for dinner tonight it was a lipid-y yellow color, like vegetable oil on a paper plate. we turned this ambiguously parsnip-y thing  into a nameless, starch-derived french fry platter, served with garlic-sauteed mushrooms, rotiserrie chicken, fresh tomatoes and a mesclun salad.

cooking at chez nous is sort of like pooping, in the sense that sometimes it can be really great, most of the time it is just average, and sometimes it is even pretty bad, but we still should do it every day. saturday night molly bought some roast beef from the charcuterie downstairs, and i made a fig-mesclun salad with eggplant chips.

you will also notice there is pasta on that plate. it represents the pasta we eat every other night of the week, because usually we do not eat roast beef or rotisserie chicken. usually we eat pasta.

to conclude, life imitates art, art shares two letters with pasta, and pasta imitates food. thank you.