BlathrWayne Lorentz

I decided to make my own frozen burritos. For the filling, I had two choices:

1. Buy a can of ready-to-go burrito filling from the supermarket for $1.09
2. Spend $15 following a recipe from the New York Times Cooking section

Naturally, I went the hard route.

This H.E.B. frozen cheese ravioli is “ready to cook.” Is there another option? Does H.E.B. sell “some assembly required” cheese ravioli?

If you see an advertisement for cooking oil while on the subway, you might be in the Middle West.

Very wholesome.

Me: “Man, remember how V.C.R.'s used to blink 12:00 all the time after the power went out? That was awful.”

My KitchenAid microwave oven: “Hold my beer...”

This is pretty much the most Texas thing Iʼve seen today.

A column in todayʼs newspaper suggests, “Try a plant-based sweetener like Stevia” instead of sugar.

So what exactly to millennials think sugar is made from? Rocks? Oil? The dried, ground up bones of boomers?

Today I discovered that my microwave has a frozen burrito function.

Where have you been all my life?

It turns out my new oven has a Sabbath mode. It also turns out to do the opposite of what I assumed it would.

Darcie likes when I make her pizza from scratch. I donʼt do it as often as I should because the dough is a lot of work.

But when I do accede to her cravings, I also make myself a “cowboy pizza.” Itʼs made from whatever I happen to find in the refrigerator that is remotely pizza-like. Peppers, onions, tomatoes, bits of random leftover meats and cheeses.

I call it “cowboy” pizza because I cook it in a cast iron skillet, since I only have one pizza pan.

I miss having Darcie around to dote on so I can pretend that my real life doesnʼt exist.

Sheʼs still at work, so Iʼm baking her a cake right now. Iʼll probably burn it, like I did with the last cake. And the cupcakes. And the pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving. Baking is not my thing.

Grating fresh nutmeg on the pumpkin pie before baking it seemed like a good idea, until the nut fell in.

Darcie: “You made a Jell-O mold?”

Me: “Yep!”

Darcie: “What flavor?”

Me: “Raspberry failure!”

I just slogged through an episode of Good Eats: The Return on Food Network Go.

There were 26 commercials for just two recipes!

I hope Alton Brown got a new car out of it, since I had to watch the same Enterprise Rent-a-Car commercial seven times in a row in one break.

Someone should invent a tall and skinny, or a short and narrow cooking pot to deliver us from the tyranny of spaghetti-burning overhang.

No, I canʼt just break the spaghetti into pieces. That wonʼt work for Cincinnati chili.

Three day weekend.

Four cans of Skyline chili.

Challenge accepted.

I think this is the cat equivalent of a dog drinking all of the water from a Christmas tree stand.

Whenever I read my cowboy books at night, it makes me want to use my cast iron skillet in the morning.

Being dumb enough to grab the hot iron handle is probably not the only way Iʼm not a cowboy.

Shhh! Nobody tell Darcie Iʼm cooking outdoor dinner again tonight. Sheʼll get McDonaldʼs on her way home!

Under 95° on a weekend? You know Darcieʼs coming home to an outdoor dinner.