I made cassoulet for dinner tonight. It’s a southern French dish which is basically white beans, garlic sausage, and some kind of fowl. You’re supposed to make it with confit d’oie which is preserved goose, but preserved goose is not readily available in Southern California so I just put in a couple of drumsticks. It was, in fact, a very bastardized cassoulet because I’m not French and not from Carcassone and I didn’t take two days to make it and the beans weren’t the exact type of beans they’d use and and and. Damn tasty though, especially with a little dry white wine with fines herbes and pepper and a leetle bit of the balsamic vinegar in it.
My back is still messed up. Times like these I wish I had some hard drugs like Vicodin around the house because I am a wimp about pain.
Andy pointed out the other night that there is talk of re-legalizing assault rifles in California so that we can once again blaze away with the mighty AR-15. Oddly enough, there is no talk of re-legalizing the good hair spray, because, you know, of the environment. And they’re still trying to crack down on backyard barbecues in Los Angeles, because, you know, of the environment. But maybe we’ll be able to bang off .223 rounds at 975 meters per second as fast as we can work the trigger! Just don’t expect your hair to stay up or the barbecue to taste any good.