It is possible to have too much MWT
Jul. 4th, 2009 06:22 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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queensthiefToday, I had a Megan Whalen Turner day.
Several days ago, I stumbled across MWT's recipe for walnut pesto in the delightful Write Out of the Oven collection (there's also a hilarious letter from a kid preceding it which desperately makes me want to write middle grade novels so students will be forced by their teachers to write ME such awesome letters; can be found here: http://books.google.com/books?id=CbXdtK_PSx8C&pg=PA9&lpg=PA9&dq=megan+whalen+turner+write+out+of+the+oven&source=bl&ots=tjGE9Q5boV&sig=QydMRhc0Uh8blDB83quM1Ogc0pU&hl=en&ei=puRPSt6jFpOIMc7_3PUP&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1 Sorry the link is so long.)
Having never made a pesto before and seizing the excuse to buy a couple of kitchen gadgets I've been wanting, I went grocery shopping this morning and then had fun with a little machine that's got sharp blades that go around really fast. (How could this possibly not be a good thing?) The pesto turned out really well, so I devoured it with French bread and goat cheese (as per MWT's recommendation) while simultaneously rereading The Thief. Bliss.
With seventy pages to go, it occurred to me that the only possible way to improve this scenario was by adding sugar and hot water. So I filled the bathtub, and, armed with my book and a slice of cake smothered in whipped cream (the REAL kind), I prepared to indulge in luxury worthy of an Epicurean.
I live in cheap housing in a big city in a hot climate. Roaches happen.
But as I dipped my foot into the tub, I was not prepared to see the mother of them all sinking through the top layer of bubbles.
There was screeching. There was splashing (resulting in the last page of The Thief getting soaked). There was wailing and gnashing of teeth.
And at the end of it all, there was one bitter lamentation:
Where the HECK is Leroy Roachbane when I need him?!
Several days ago, I stumbled across MWT's recipe for walnut pesto in the delightful Write Out of the Oven collection (there's also a hilarious letter from a kid preceding it which desperately makes me want to write middle grade novels so students will be forced by their teachers to write ME such awesome letters; can be found here: http://books.google.com/books?id=CbXdtK_PSx8C&pg=PA9&lpg=PA9&dq=megan+whalen+turner+write+out+of+the+oven&source=bl&ots=tjGE9Q5boV&sig=QydMRhc0Uh8blDB83quM1Ogc0pU&hl=en&ei=puRPSt6jFpOIMc7_3PUP&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1 Sorry the link is so long.)
Having never made a pesto before and seizing the excuse to buy a couple of kitchen gadgets I've been wanting, I went grocery shopping this morning and then had fun with a little machine that's got sharp blades that go around really fast. (How could this possibly not be a good thing?) The pesto turned out really well, so I devoured it with French bread and goat cheese (as per MWT's recommendation) while simultaneously rereading The Thief. Bliss.
With seventy pages to go, it occurred to me that the only possible way to improve this scenario was by adding sugar and hot water. So I filled the bathtub, and, armed with my book and a slice of cake smothered in whipped cream (the REAL kind), I prepared to indulge in luxury worthy of an Epicurean.
I live in cheap housing in a big city in a hot climate. Roaches happen.
But as I dipped my foot into the tub, I was not prepared to see the mother of them all sinking through the top layer of bubbles.
There was screeching. There was splashing (resulting in the last page of The Thief getting soaked). There was wailing and gnashing of teeth.
And at the end of it all, there was one bitter lamentation:
Where the HECK is Leroy Roachbane when I need him?!
Re: You may not want to read this comment
Date: 7/6/09 04:28 am (UTC)