GAH. AGAIN WITH THE POSTING! SHOOT ME NOW!

I have no idea why I'm bothering to post again. I think it's because I'm too apathetic to surf the web and I'm trying to take up 15 minutes so I can run out, turn down my bird, and sit my ass on the sofa for a prolonged period.

I work a 10-6 office, which means the good places are about closed by the time I'm off. Tonight, I zipped out of downtown (such as one can, given traffic and all) and got into the Granville Public Market at the last possible second.

The score: A nearly 7-pound farm-fed fat-ass chicken. It's been buttered and oiled and seasoned and is now roasting, sans stuffing. Though I make killer (read 3,000 calorie) stuffing and all.
The method: A quick blast of heat followed by moderate. It'll be done at 9.
The madness: The plan is, lunch for the remainder of the week, and maybe, JUST MAYBE, I might make meself some chick'n'pot pie tomorrow night. I dunno. Must get inspired to pull that off.

As it stands, lunch will be a funky toasted chicken sandwich with some Herbes de Provence mustard or something.

Okay, a confession.

I'm a mustard junkie. Yep. My friend GayBoy taunts me ad nauseum about it. There's a long, funny-assed story there, but I don't have the energy. The point is, I have TEN kinds of mustard in my fridge -- no, make that 11. And one's at my bro's (Burgundy hot mustard). And then there's the mustard powder. I don't eat a lot of mustard, oddly, but I cook with it a lot, and I make pretty wicked salad dressings.

The Herbes de Provence is my latest purchase, and I suspect it'll make a beautiful chicken sandwich. I have tonnes of others -- Sweet vodka mustard, gin-infused with borseradish, chipotle-lime, cabernet sauvignon w roasted garlic, black currant, crandberry... It's a whole world of mustard out there! AND IT'S FABULOUS! I'll take one of everything!

They never go bad! Sure, invest in your high-falutin' vinegars and oils, but for a poor little writer girl like me, MUSTARD makes my culinary world go 'round -- and 'round and 'round with an infinitesimal shelf life!

Fuckin' a, says I.

Okay, that's it. I'm going to do mustard and pepper and oil together for a steak marinade. (Having steak for dinner -- no fucking way can I wait until 9:30!)

...but which mustard?! Gah! (Vodka?) Hmm! Lemme go poke me noggin' in ze fridge. I shall experiment.