You can't make chicken salad out of chicken shit
Maybe it's just too much Pat Conroy and a recent run-in with a bowl of inedible grits at a so called "Southern" restaurant here in Philly, but I am just a blue plate special away from tossing in the towel on Philadelphia.
No one here seems to have taste buds. They have no appreciation for the Holy Sanctity of Brunch or the Eleventh Commandment that states "Thou shalt not forsake thy coconut cream pie". I am beginning to believe that people up North are unfriendly because there is just simply nothing to eat except mediocre, overcooked, underflavored pseudo Italian nonsense. And "Broccoli Rabe". Whatever the hell that is.
I've decided that if I don't learn to cook soon, Knox and I are both going to die of starvation. When I think about Thanksgiving in Alabama, I can hardly keep from salivating. Between my Southern family and my Italian family (obviously by marriage, not blood), Knox and I plan to eat until we have to be rolled away from the table.
We're just a few weeks away from culinary heaven and we're counting down the days.
No one here seems to have taste buds. They have no appreciation for the Holy Sanctity of Brunch or the Eleventh Commandment that states "Thou shalt not forsake thy coconut cream pie". I am beginning to believe that people up North are unfriendly because there is just simply nothing to eat except mediocre, overcooked, underflavored pseudo Italian nonsense. And "Broccoli Rabe". Whatever the hell that is.
I've decided that if I don't learn to cook soon, Knox and I are both going to die of starvation. When I think about Thanksgiving in Alabama, I can hardly keep from salivating. Between my Southern family and my Italian family (obviously by marriage, not blood), Knox and I plan to eat until we have to be rolled away from the table.
We're just a few weeks away from culinary heaven and we're counting down the days.