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“A party is like a sausage machine, it grinds up all sorts of heads together into the same baloney …”
Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People

Fried Baloney

On Saturday I was invited to a party. I fretted all day about having to dress up while being over-tired. I tried to encase myself in a red dress mostly with the aid of boob tape and Spanx, and intermittently looked in the mirror dreading the schmoozy affair which was still…8 hours away. If you’ve seen me lately, I’ve taken to wearing “boyfriend jeans” (read : baggy) and calling them my weekend pants. Nothing else will do. Just like lately, nothing else will do but facing the fact that I don’t want to go to parties anymore. So screw it. I’ll continue sitting in the yard, reading a book, eating a greasy, fried baloney sandwich ’till the end of my days. I’ll pair it with a Pumpkin Ale if I’m feeling fancy.
Holler if you need me.

quote by Fried Baloney and Pumpkin Ale

About the author


Here you will find food stories about the recipes I tackle in my kitchen. I promise to always be experimental. There may be food flops and poetic blunders. It’ll be reverse logic - good food that looks bad, bad food that looks amaaaazing, a solid try, a lazy attempt, a ton of stuff and little bits of nothing.

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