This afternoon I was wheeling my bicycle into the building when a man materialized from inside and held open the door.
Hi, there! Listen, you did great last night—I don’t care what anybody says. I mean… should I even let you in? You look pretty shady!
Nutter. Seriously, I had never seen this man before in my life. I just laughed awkwardly and said “Yup…thanks,” and wheeled my bike in. That’s just sort of ‘how I do’: weirdos are weird, I’m polite to a fault, and one day I’ll probably get abducted by someone offering to check my bike tire pressure with a Twizzler. Live and learn.
[Even though it has proven less than well-made, I got a few more Low Luv x Erin Wasson pieces from Shop-to-the-bop: an Aztec knuckle ring ($38!) and the Celebration cuff (on sale). Love.]
So I worked out in my head that the random man somehow had access to my Facebook account where I’d written:
Best batch of hollandaise. Ever. You know you’re a Wodehouse when…
I mean, that would explain it, right? Anyway, I’m lucky Rob needed to play with his new external flash while I was doing really important butter meltage calculations in my head and being patient with the shutter snapping—Hollandaise is all about perfecting temperatures to get the emulsion—so you could see my new striped/Saint James imposter t-shirt. It makes me look less blimpy in person, I promise.
I love temperamental food. Too hot or too cold and you blow it. In my years making hollandaise on my own away from the homestead, I’ve never had a batch separate. Perfect, opaque, whipped, fluffy texture; buttery and tangy. And I’d better be good at it—in our house, birthdays were not about cakes. They were about steak and venison fondue, hollandaise, fried okra, and my mom’s mashed potatoes.
FYI: We liberally drizzled the sauce over two perfect, tiny filet mignons pan seared in butter in an antique cast iron skillet with some squash. It was the perfect meal for the Top Chef finale. Because as much as temperamental food speaks to me, healthy food bores me. For Christ’s sake, you get one damned life; the more carnage the better, I say.
Speaking of… thoughts on the winner? I mean, I was an Ed fan, but only because my boy Kenny got thrown under the bus back during restaurant wars. Crazy.