“Real men don't
eat Quiche” Where did that horse pie come from anyway? No idea. But
when I woke up at 1:30 I wanted to make it. One crab, one broccoli.
But my deal with myself is that I don't get out of bed before 3AM, so
I did my best to go back to sleep. I've always resented, the need for
sleep. It feels like wasted time, like I'm missing out on something.
Anyway, I made it to 2:45 and decided that the clock was 15 minutes
slow.
Five minutes later, I was rolling. Pandora playing Hound Dog Taylor through an old wireless JBL that Hannah gave me years ago about the size of a hoagie roll that still kick ass.
Bent over a Pyrex bowl, grating Swiss, Gruyere, and Asiago. The broccoli was already blanched, mixed with cream and crab. Check, check, check, and check.
Quiche is best if refrigerated overnight and then warmed back up. That is the plan. And tomorrow? I will definitely eat Quiche. So as far as that stuff about real men goes, there is only one of two conclusions to be drawn:
1) It's not true 2) I'm not a real man.
I'm fine with it either way, as long as I get a big slice.
Five minutes later, I was rolling. Pandora playing Hound Dog Taylor through an old wireless JBL that Hannah gave me years ago about the size of a hoagie roll that still kick ass.
Bent over a Pyrex bowl, grating Swiss, Gruyere, and Asiago. The broccoli was already blanched, mixed with cream and crab. Check, check, check, and check.
Quiche is best if refrigerated overnight and then warmed back up. That is the plan. And tomorrow? I will definitely eat Quiche. So as far as that stuff about real men goes, there is only one of two conclusions to be drawn:
1) It's not true 2) I'm not a real man.
I'm fine with it either way, as long as I get a big slice.
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