There's no better way to ensure blog silence than declaring your intention to post every day for a whole month. I feel like I started strong. There were a few days there when I posted right in a row, but then…
Then the recipe went bad. Then the camera wouldn't cooperate. Then the mustache orders started piling up, the basset hound confused my bedroom carpet for a toilet bowl, and the cat wouldn't come down from the top of the kitchen cabinets. Somebody said something about Mercury in retrograde, whatever that means, and ever since, a spell of hoodoo-voodoo has haunted the month of November.
Balls to hoodoo-voodoo. Balls, I say.
So there you have it, your every-so-often post on how the world of a food blogger is so far less glamorous than some twisted minds might imagine. In between the carefully photographed dishes there are a lot of truly shitty meals, epic food disasters, and regular old, everyday cluster-f***ery.
I leave you with this parting gift, a smell to haunt your dreams: liquid smoke and basset hound.