It’s just astonishing. I also made risotto earlier in this experience and oh my god.

I’m so sorry to hear about your friend. School music directors leave a special mark on those that get to learn from them.

This was me last weekend. It blows. I’m sorry. Be as blob like as you need to be. 

How is it possible to have this many dishes? HOW? I swear 75% of my quarantine has been me washing dishes. I’ve tried to institute a lot of reuse of the same dishes, but oh my god, all I do is clean dishes.

I gave myself a use injury on my foot from using a different sewing machine that requires a lead foot to use the pedal.

I would not have been shocked by that. For many talents, he was not an adept cook. He wasn’t going to starve, but putting chicken in the oven was more his level.

I’ve had those really awesome thick cream of mushroom soups! They are so good! 

It wasn’t sweet, really. The milk separated and curdled and was...highly unpleasant. You wouldn’t have died eating it, but it wasn’t a good time.

This was because Lucretia’s birthday is in January, and it is really damn difficult to get corn on the cob in January in Philadelphia. So I had to use frozen and look up about how much corn comes off of a cob. I agitated the corn before I used it to try to get it to play nice. But the challenges of out of season…

I’ve made a lot of historical recipes and know they are going to be different and normally pretty bland.

I love me some creamed corn.

She’s the best! And yeah, one of the few that wasn’t astonishingly racist.

Every time this incident came up in the five years after, he swore that he simply followed the directions that I gave him to cook a steak on the stove top (medium high heat, a little oil, how many minutes per side for a sirloin, etc).

I have absolutely no idea. He wanted to make a steak but had only cooked one on a grill, so I told him how to cook a steak in a pan—a little oil, medium high heat, sear, how many minutes for the type of steak yada yada yada.

The measurements for some old recipes are insane. Either due to their wonky ratios or just sheer volume

Honorable mention to my late husband, who did this to one of my pans while I was at work one day:

Is that the one that also includes like half a bottle of brandy? 

At work, and in my life, I spend a lot of time talking about Lucretia Mott (abolitionist, women’s rights reformer, all around amazing Quaker) and I’m also kind of obsessed with her food tendencies. She carried snacks around in her cloak. She loved to cook and was proud of it. So much that when a newspaper misprinted…

As an obsessive vacuumer...I’m sorry.

Ah fuck. I shouldn’t find this as funny as I do. Small towns/middling suburb drama and the WOE that comes from it is just too damn hilarious.