Rob is a Sous Chef at Fenouil.  He’s made Beef Bourguignon so many times that as you can se here, he could do it with his eyes closed.  I’ve seen Rob prepare many different dishes, and have learned a lot from watching him work.  Working in a kitchen you meet a lot of strange people with sick senses of humor, and Rob is among the finest examples, if not the textbook definition of that “fringe element.”  He once used a squeeze bottle full of water to “pee” on my foot in the mens room.  His sense of humor is so perverse, one could imagine being damned to hell for being in the same room when he tells a joke.  It’s proximity damnation.  My frequent attempts to shock or disturb this man have always ended in ME being shocked and disturbed by his comeback.  Understanding all this and looking at this picture I have to wonder: What is he thinking?

Most people will find this picture revolting.  I however, seeing metal sticking out of my arm, thought to myself, human modification is real and I’m finally turning into a robot!! When I woke up from that reverie, it was to a reality involving a surly doctor, vice grips, and a disturbing sensation that can only be described as “when metal is extracted from bone.” Anyhoo, the long road to full-recovery has begun, and through the use of complicated excercises should regain full range of motion in my left hand.  That, of course,  means that I can get back in the kitchen and start synthesizing yumminess ambidextrously once again for my beloved readers.   It also means I can finally stop bitching about having a broken arm.

Remember the clarified butter that Jaybill and I made to poach pork loin?  Well,  when we got some ultra-delicious looking lamb sausage from New Seasons, so did we.  After poaching about twenty minutes in 140 degree butter these babies were bursting with  buttery goodness.   So we lightly browned them, then devoured them.  This is the first time we made sausage that Jaybill was only able to eat one.  I on the other hand, ate two, and then butter poached bacon the following morning.  When I die way too young from massive heart failure, it will be with a big smile on my face.

I NEED to COOK!!! So what better dish to pull out but my Mom’s Baked Ziti.  Why? Because I can do it with one arm, okay?  I’ve seen this recipe put together so many times I can do it in my sleep.  My mom used to do this on Sundays after church, and it’s probably one of the first things I tried to make on my own after toast.  It’s evolved over the years to include penne instead of ziti, fresh tomatoes melted into the mozzerella on top, and enough cheese to kill a…well…it’s got a retarted amount of cheese.  I also used pre-fab alfredo and marinara sauces to make the meat sauce.  C’mon I got a broken arm, okay? Don’t try and tell me you don’t use that much butter on your bread, either.  Salad and bread purchased at New Seasons.  

Thanks mom, for always being there…and thanks Kate, for always believing in me…and of course the fans, without them this would never have been possible.  But most of all, thank you Lagunitas for making surviving this broken arm possible.