Sunday, October 3, 2010

Why am I always cooking the grossest stuff when French folks appear unexpectedly?

Like boiled cabbage.

Oreneta

Here

6 comments:

Kim said...

So now I'm wondering just what it was you were cooking. Old running shoes? Compost soup?

I am still doing Kal's class, just keeping it low-profile. I am not too far behind either - I'm up to the scribbling, getting the table to shake. It wasn't what I was thinking it might be, I'm not sure where it all leads - if anywhere. I'll hang in there, be in the process.

swenglishexpat said...

I have read through all the posts since I last visited. Your house is coming along veeery nicely. It seems Oreneta will stay aground for quite some time. And those stairs; you almost need be a trained mountaineer!

Anonymous said...

French folks?

Who pray tell?

The french folks who know how to cook real well?

yum!

oreneta said...

Kim, so often it isn't what it is, so much as what we can take away....I'm having fun with oil pastels if nothing else!

Senglishexpat, thanks so much about the house, we're getting there....when we're a little more organised I'll put up a bunch of photos, right now there is a lot of crap sitting around in piles, making me kind of crazy! The stairs are, indeed, steep.

Anon, friends of the man from work stopped by while I was throwing together a very desperate last minute meal.

Sigh.

elpadawan said...

you could have done worse by ordering some soggy pizza or what not. :)

oreneta said...

Well, I am glad it could be worse than the most British of vegetables cooked in the most British of ways. I do have to admit that I love boiled cabbage. Something about it, though it has to be done right. Must be genetic. It is not, however, something I would typically serve company. Though that said, maybe I should grab my love of boiled cabbage without intimidation and just eat it up!