But mainly because the oven has been eager to please tonight. I am officially a Brooklyn cliche. Homemade everything. Now all I need is an upside down window garden and my own podcast.
Behold, my homemade bread and preserves:
Pacato asked if my way around not being able to eat some of this stuff for the next three months was to make my own. Um, maybe.
Fact: I had a slice for dessert. I just couldn't wait till tomorrow to taste the fruit (fiber?) of my hands. It was awesome. And turns out both were super easy. (The preserves were just strawberries plus sugar plus some hot pepper on the stove for 45 minutes or so, then I added a splash of fresh lemon juice. I'm curious to try with agave. I don't know if it will work. Shivani, re: peanut butter, don't think I haven't thought about it. . . .)
Dinner came from Chinatown:
It looks better than it smells.
As for my chest, I guess I pulled a muscle? I had no idea it was possible. I didn't finish my exercises today because it hurts to lean over. Should be ready to rumble tomorrow.