those who know me know that every atom in my body is driven towards maximum productivity and making bales and bales of hay while the proverbial sun shines. waking up each morning sluggish and drowsy, with the dull fog of a headache that creeps inexorably further over my synapses through the course of a day, with an old-fashioned washboard at the back of my throat and suspicious tenderness in my sinuses IS NOT OKAY. it's only been 3-4 days of feeling slightly under the weather, but i'm THROUGH. i'm going on an aggressive campaign to rid myself of whatever virus has set up shop in my body.
this means: MATZOH BALL SOUP. i'm a great believer in the power of jewish penicillin. so i'm scrapping my plans for the more ambitious dinner i was to have tonight, in favour of homemade chicken stock, loaded with cubes of carrot, celery, celery root, rutabaga, and glistening, slippery egg noodles, bobbing with comforting, little, dill-flecked, chubby matzoh balls.
last night's dinner was delicious. toasted panko makes all the difference in an otherwise simple pasta, adding flavour and texture. the pork rillettes were delicious! decadently coated with a snowy cap of porcine fat, smelling faintly of sweet porky goodness. the meat was tenderly shredded and light and with a pinch of fleur de sel, it went perfectly with some crostinis.
it's kind of funny to see how my ambitions have telescoped with the dawning realization of my lack of time or will. the paper that i wanted to kick ass on, the one that was going to be the apotheosis of my scholarly ability and intellectual aptitude, has since been reduced to this statement, uttered with dirty-harry like grim fortitude, through gritted teeth, "it'll get done". so i went from having something that could be published, to something whose principal merit is that it has a beginning, middle, and end.