scheming, she says

i wonder if other people do this.

it's midnight on friday and i'm about to hit the proverbial hay, but thoughts are running rampant as to what i might enjoy for breakfast. i'm totally hatching a diabolical food scheme for my lazy antisocial weekend.

i'm thinking of getting up (whenever i finally decide to) and riding down to broadway to get some cheese and organic eggs. then, leftover barbecued steak cubed up and tossed into scrambled eggs with some organic wild rice cooked in my homemade chicken stock. i was thinking a little cheese in there (i'll buy something special at the deli) and possibly some other veggie, like sauteed onion. maybe even something wild, like brocolli. i think i need salsa for eggs like that. and no brocolli. hmm.

this will be a fun experiment. it's the furthest i've taken the scrambled'n'things eggs. and i'll probably have a little bacon, and then not eat until 8 or 9. hardy har har. i have heard good tales about scrambled eggs with curried chicken now, though, and am considering further investigation. i have curry mix, and superstore has coconut milk on 2 for $1. fate, perhaps.

and i plan to hit up some of my fave haunts for a few specialty items tomorrow, including my awesome farm-fed chicken i get on G.I. and herbs, and an off-commercial wholesaler. the bird is sacrificed tomorrow or maybe sunday night. stuffed with herbs and lemon and garlic this time. and no skimping on the butter-on-skin bit, either. i did olive oil last week. so NOT even in the same postal code, man. disappointing. that bird, i must repeat, last week, weighed in at nearly 7 pounds. it was $16. the breast meat ran 3 inches deep. free range birds with funny short legs and monster fat bellies. must've worked up lotsa appetite.

and and and. and! and! yorkshire pudding! yep. i figure i'm staying in to make sure my cold departs, and i'm going to treat myself well. a big bird, a nice meal. i may even be bad and make potatoes. mashed, even. gasp. jaw drop. yes, yes. mashed. and some veggies to ease the guilt.

comfort food is a heavenly thing. i should get myself a meat thermometer for once and for all, too. sigh. and some decent fucking knives. sigh. not the knives. birthdays loom and maybe, just maybe, i get something useful. like knives.

right. that's my day: food, shopping, cleaning, eating, and bob marley and johnny cash, i think.

sounds like a fine saturday to me.