holy comestibles!

We all know that I'm not the goddess of culinary domesticity. Not because I can't. But because it just takes an inordinate amount of time. Plus, once you've made good food, it must be eaten to really be appreciated. All that time and work just get chewed up, digested, and forgotten when another appetite sets in.

So, I took this picture to immortalize a dinner that has now been digested:
















I'm very proud that I learned to make wheat bread this summer. For some reason, homemade bread once seemed a mystery to me. (It's still sort of mysterious; if Christopher doesn't double-check the temperature of the water I use to activate the yeast, the dough won't rise. He's indispensable.) Bread also seemed like something that took all day—the most important reason for banning it from my to-do list. But it's actually not that bad, especially considering that eating pizza with a homemade whole-wheat crust makes me feel culinarily divine.