Bobby Flay, you make it hard to love you.
One of the founding U.S. Iron Chefs, he’s host of numerous other Food Network shows, including “Throwdown.”
Were you, Gentle Reader, wondering why there was no ode to Cupid, no Valentine’s column?
The lack is because of men, and red frosting.
I just saw Zy, the young man who lives across the street from us. He was tiny when he moved in. He was so little, when he learned to walk, he would stand upright and literally walk under our akita Steve’s belly.
I adore Petey and The Kid. But about the time preschool started, I was feeling the need to increase the number of humans with which I interacted on a daily basis. At that time, the grand total was three: my husband, our toddler, and the mailman, when he didn’t make a fast enough getaway.
For some reason, Petey doesn’t want me to sing “Happy Birthday” to him on his birthday. He does, however want me to cook for him.
Food Network has a show called “The Best Thing I Ever Ate.” Each episode has a different category, like fried foods or Asian cuisine. One episode was about French favorites, and our beloved Bull City got a shout-out.
I’ve made no secret of the fact that I love brownie mix. I also generally fear and loath most other types of pre-fab, chemically enhanced food from a box. But I must confess to you a dirty little secret.
The Kid is flying back to NECI on Jan. 1. The plane leaves at the terrifying hour of 6 a.m. (We’re not morning people.) So, a New Year’s breakfast won’t happen, but my little scholar will get at least one big, home-cooked breakfast while home for Christmas vacation.
Like many women, I adore chocolate. So much that Petey keeps a giant Hershey bar in a glass box with a small hammer attached, in case he’s in the line of fire when I experience a chocolate emergency.
My mother’s Christmas cookies are like the TARDIS on the BBC sci-fi series “Dr. Who.” The doctor travels both time and space in a contraption that from the outside looks like an old-fashioned British police box.