thirtysix sips

This is an ugly egg. Its yolk broke as soon as it hit the pan. And that made me sad. But what else can you do in these trying times except to move forward? What else can you do besides drown the bitch in chili oil and slide it onto a porous foundation of hojicha sourdough toast? What else can you do besides eat through the disappointment and find the satisfaction of a full tummy on the other side?
And we have made it through another morning.

The first order of business was to bake my still sleepy sweet potato buns - half with charcoal pineapple bun topping, half naked because I panicked and didn't know the best way to apply chili oil.

It's okay though because they made great slider buns.
[flanked by squash//caprese and squash//salted egg yolk]

Slider of beef ravioli filling patty + mozz + tomatoes + chili oil.

Eaten while appreciating just how dark and clever Six Feet Under really is.

Also el oh el that the salted egg custard got pushed all the way to the top - not the dramatic cross section I was expecting. This is what happens when your filling is too liquidy.

I basically had half a bun on the half hour from 10am to 3pm.

And then I desperately needed a walk. As a great excuse to unload some buns onto Emily in exchange for her attempt-at-healthy-eating chicken salad (such a nice refreshing addition to my day's diet of buns) and almost get run over because I wasn't paying attention and then spend the rest of the stroll home contemplating my own morality.

Several episodes of Six Feet Under and mindless dumpling folding later, I went to bed because I thought I was adequately stuffed.
Should not have that had wine cocktail because I was wrong.

Found some room within me for freezer stash shrimp dumps and one black sheep with chili oil + black vinegar dipping sauce that I brought into bed with me knowing damn well the risk I would be taking. Needless to say I had to change my shirt.