Okay. I'm back. And I'm sorry. It seems like having no actual job would make it easier to sit your ass down and write, but apparently I'm wrong. I've made a shitload of notes. I've started some stories, but other things got in the way. I'll start filling in the gaps as I can, but tonight, it's time for a love letter to Ina. Because, let's face it, only Ina can bring you back from the depths of writer's block (or laziness. Whatever. You say potato).
I love you. There, I said it. You probably already knew that since I cook from your books and link to your recipes way more than anyone else. But I love you more than that. I love that all your recipes come out looking just like they do in the book. I love it that you DEMAND that people enjoy themselves while cooking, that you insist that I buy some parts of my dinner party and focus on some really good food. I love that you've been married to your high school sweetheart for 44 years.
And mostly, I love it that you're a little chubby. I love it a lot. Because no one that likes food and wine as much as we do (see how I called us "we"?) is going to look like Giada. All due respect to her, but sister ain't really eating all that pasta, if you know what I mean. I love it that you're real, and that you make fun of yourself. And I really, really, really love your Basil Chicken Hash, which BOTH of my children ate the shit out of tonight.