In my defense, phagia also means just "eating"

Since I finished On Beauty, I have completed a total of... one book, Nick Hornby's Polysyllabic Spree. I have attempted more books than that, of course, but I just couldn't bring myself to finish the horribly written one about the time traveling man, and I'm still working slowly through Horby's Fever Pitch, which is really, really about football. English football, about which I know nearly nothing. But now that I've read more than half of his oeuvre, there's a compulsion to finish it.

So in lieu of reading more books and writing about the ones I've read (the joint goals of my blog), I've been cooking. Granted, only on the weekends when Elliott is here, but it's such a time suck. For example, it took me three hours to make beef stew yesterday. It turned out really well, though. See?





And tonight I made creme brulee again because it's a really simple dessert. (Of course, I've been feeling under the weather this entire weekend and dunno if I really want dessert anymore.) Elliott, um, attempted meringue puffs. Let's just say that he broke a pastry bag. We'll see how that turns out.

But the point is, I've been busy while not reading. Really.