Why oh why did I drink last night?
I’m still nursing a bit of an upper respiratory cold, and I want to enjoy my birthday weekend to the fullest, so obviously in the days before I shouldn’t: A) Exert myself, B) Drink, or C) Stay up late. So what did I do? Worked out, played basketball, and went to a bar. Fantastic.
I also planned on cooking something last night, and that sure didn’t happen. You see, when I returned from work, I was greeted by the delicious smell of chicken. Turns out Danny B. was making Hungarian chicken soup for dinner (it was great, by the way), which meant all dinner responsibilities were thankfully off my plate. But I felt guilty about not having cooked for a while (since Sunday, actually?! Yikes), so I thought I would at least make a side, seeing as I’ve only cooked one of Gwyneth’s side dishes so far. But then I worked out, and then dinner was ready, and then we rushed off to play basketball, and then to Mississippi Pizza Co. to eat pizza and drink and see a super great band, and suddenly my alarm was waking me up and my throat felt a thousand times worse, and I have no one but myself to blame.
So, those are my excuses. But tonight I’ll do some cooking! And tomorrow, seeing as it’s my birthday and all, I’ll be making the only recipe in the cookbook that involves alcohol. And it’s tequila! SCANDALOUS, Gwyneth. Plus, I plan on doing something with duck this weekend.
Christ. So, I’m confident I can find whole ducks and specific duck parts from butchers in Portland, but I’m not so sure about the availability of duck bacon. It seems like a highly specialized item that most places probably wouldn’t bother with, right? Gwyneth recommends D’Artagnan, so I figured I’d use them for just the bacon. And $8.99 isn’t THAT expensive. So I went to order some just now, and was horrified to see the shipping cost added TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS. $34 for a mere 8 ounces of bacon? Fuuuuuck.
Portland people, I need your help: Is there anywhere you know of in the city where I can find duck bacon? Nightmares and empty wallets loom on the horizon.