My mom and I were driving over to get lunch at our favorite sushi place in Highland Park when I noticed that the Borders book store had a going-out-of-business sign. My mind immediately clicked into action, trying to remember the names of books and cookbooks that are on my list (You know? The list? The running list of all the books you’re going to buy as soon as you find magic money in your couch cushions? Yeah, that list.) So we ate our sushi (yummy spicy “hot brittle tuna”!) and headed down the street and I jumped into “sale mode.” My legs carried me swiftly to the cookbook section (very swiftly) and I kept my elbows out, ensuring sufficient room to browse, read titles quickly, and not be crowded. The people around me must have known what was going down because I found myself suddenly alone in that section, everybody cleared out, my mind in a zone. Well, I found three of the titles that were on my list and considered that a success (I quadruple checked because there was a bread baking book I really wanted but just couldn’t find, because I’m an artisan bread maker and all now…and there was a Moroccan/Indian/Mediterranean book I was looking for and also could not find).
I ground my own oat flour, I shaved my own carrots, and…well that’s really all the intensity that this recipe called for.
