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I gave my love a cherry that had no stone
My poem "Crossing the Line," which is about and dedicated to my mother, is now online at Goblin Fruit. Hello, internet publication!
From a recipe salvaged from one of the numberless back issues of Gourmet that were recently put out for recycling, my father and I made negimaki—like sushi, only with scallions and flank steak—last night. They were delicious. We couldn't find mirin for the marinade in the local liquor store, but that was the only hitch. Pounding the flank steak to a thickness of one-sixteenth of an inch was also peculiarly therapeutic. Our house smelled like a Japanese restaurant until this morning, when my mother made pear cake.
I had spam today from Jove Scroggins.
From a recipe salvaged from one of the numberless back issues of Gourmet that were recently put out for recycling, my father and I made negimaki—like sushi, only with scallions and flank steak—last night. They were delicious. We couldn't find mirin for the marinade in the local liquor store, but that was the only hitch. Pounding the flank steak to a thickness of one-sixteenth of an inch was also peculiarly therapeutic. Our house smelled like a Japanese restaurant until this morning, when my mother made pear cake.
I had spam today from Jove Scroggins.
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Believe me, I tried to argue my mother out of it. She had issues from 1973. But she was adamant, and they were put out for the recycling (and I think picked up by a neighbor, because their box disappeared before the cans and bottles did), and I am sorry I didn't know to send them to you!
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Are you healthy yet? Are you approaching robust? I'm quite concerned you won't see our lovely flat (it's really lovely, and a flat in the European style of 'oh, they just don't make house-shaped houses around here') before we have to move out of it.
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Are you planning to move in the near future? Because I'm not planning on a lifelong convalescence; a year of this has been quite enough, thank you kindly.
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