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Thursday, July 24, 2003

In my endless quest to better myself, I fixed rosemary potatoes last night. No, they weren't all that good, but I think I learned something. One thing I learned was that I don't know how to chop fresh rosemary. But I'm one step closer to that elusive signature dish that I can take to parties. (Michael's bringing his rosemary potatoes. Yum.)

I found the recipe in the local hippie newspaper. Excuse me, I mean the North Bay Bohemian, the only newspaper I actually read any more (because it's free, and liberal, and weekly). I do read other newspapers on line, but I don't save my quarters for the Chronicle any more. Jon Carroll and the comics I can read on the sfgate site, and I'm boycotting the news until something good happens.

The (my) rosemary potatoes weren't bad. I figure that if I can perfect them I can convince people they're finger food, like glorified French fries. That's definitely how I ate them, although it would have been smarter to wait a little longer so I didn't burn my fingers. All in all, the experiment was probably a failure, but sometimes the greatest successes come out of failures. It's a good thing, too, considering.

Shasta Lake 2003

Katie on the swim platform, thinking about diving.

Even if they were lousy (and they weren't that bad) my rosemary potatoes would have been better than most anything I've eaten since I got back from vacation. I can't seem to stop stuffing my face with everything in sight. I was doing so well before I left, and I will again, but I dread looking at the scale tomorrow. In fact, maybe I'll wait a week.

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