Why can't I sit down and read without thinking about what I'm going to make for dinner? The other day, I had that night's all planned even and especially including the leftover chicken from the exhausting Grilled Romaine and Chicken Cesar and Cobb Salad, I was in the middle of What Comes Next and How to Like It, when the thought balloon appeared: You need to check out another dumpling recipe. That Gwyneth one everyone liked.
What? Really?? I'm involved with my editing, reading a book (finally), sitting at the sewing machine (rarely), and still this compunction arises to check out an ingredient, another recipe.
Today, I'm corralled, though; L is doing dinner prep and the grilling. The kitchen half of the house smells like a lemon grove. It's 93 downtown, where I'm glad I'm not.