One of my many quirks is that I enjoy reading cookbooks while I'm eating. For the most part, my entire cookbook library is housed in my kitchen, next to a small table where I eat almost all my meals, so this odd little habit is very convenient.
When I was enjoying my dinner the other night, I came upon a gem. According to The Joy of Cooking, an Arctic explorer discovered the following Eskimo recipe for a frozen dinner: "Kill and gut a medium-sized walrus. Net several flocks of small migrating birds and remove one specific small feather from each wing. Store birds whole in interior of walrus. Sew up walrus and freeze. Two years or so later, find the cache--if you can--notify clan of a feast, partially thaw walrus. Slice and serve."
I can respect that. Really, does food amount to much more than doing the best you can with what you have? I mean, if you mess around too much with a good thing, you could end up like Sandra Fucking Lee, who has her own show AND magazine about how to follow a recipe on the back of the goddamn box. Sadly, I am not joking whatsoever. Pathetic.
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