Right, I know: I was MIA the past 72 hours. I’m not saying that I was consulted by Mitt about the 47% gaffe, but I’m not saying I wasn’t. OK? Some things have to remain hush-hush, you of all people should know exactly what I’m talking about. And, no, don’t be looking over your shoulder ’cause nobody’s there.
After the wrap with Pasternak, Sasha & I strolled over to Sullivan Street bakery to devour two crazy good slices so thin you could see buildings through them. Plus a loaf of OMG 1/2 sourdough that I’ve been eating with anything and everything since my return to the NE equivalent of Thunder Bay.
The very next day I went to EATALY: Stunning pasta filled with peas; stunning pasta filled with porcini; dried rigatoni; the ONLY matsutake I have seen this year in this country; and, a thick, fassano steak from Montana.
Lunch with Amanda preceded by Rainbow falafel in the park–there’s a certain dim bulb restaurant reviewer here in Thunder Bay who reports that “good falafel is hard to find.” So are your feet if you keep your nose in the air.
On top of all this, it was INPATIENT HEAVEN on my return: There was a big sale on schizophrenia.