I moved the last entry I wrote
to the other blog, because it's more Flaubert than Proust. That is to say, more life in general than my life in particular.
That is definitely not to say I'm Proustian or even Flaubertian (although we've all got our gripes about Flaubert, n'est-ce pas?)

Hot damn, that was real pretentious-like.

What I wanted to write about pertaining to my life was my delicious dinner.

This evening was a terrible time to have a dead camera battery, but I made risotto with asparagus and yellow squash. Except I took half the mirepoix and sauteed it in a beurre blanc with the asparagus tips and squash. It was really hard not to eat it before I threw it in the final stages of risotto.

And then I made mochi for dessert. A box of Mochiko rice flour, 2 cups of sugar, 6 teaspoons of cocoa powder, 3 cups of water, and a quick chill later, my very own sticky, glutenous Asian dessert.

Heaven.

Like tea and madeleines. Memories of mochi and risotto flood back from all directions. Well, mostly recent memories of mochi. Lots of them. Mmm. Mochi.