Yes. I have been gone for a long time. You probably thought I stopped making food altogether and my boyfriend and all my other friends have starved!
Fear not, loyal reader! (Don’t worry, I know there’s only one of you.) I am still here. I have not turned into a Philistine. I have not given up the winning fork-and-bowl combination. I had a brief editing stint which made me loathe to look at a computer after spending six hours in a row cruising single-spaced pages of an interminable (1500 pages—seriously) novel for grammatical and stylistic errors. Hence, a failure to post any paths to deliciousness. Mea culpa.
Moving on, then, to the crucial questions in life, such as: What can one do with eight pounds of strawberries? Yes, you read that right. Eight pounds. During my recent stint of “funemployment” I have engaged in so many enjoyable activities that I wish the world weren’t full of greedy bastards who have somehow convinced us that a 40-hour workweek is required to make our country successful. (In case you suspect that such a time requirement actually be necessary, consider the following questions: How many people do you know who work fulltime and are ACTUALLY WORKING for forty hours each week; AND If Wallstreet bankers are busting their tails for up to eighty hours a week and THIS is the result, then maybe we need to realign our expectations with reality. Just saying.)