It’s been a while since we had a food post.  The truth is it’s rare these days to have a kitchen to myself: I’ve either been team-cooking for 80 at the meditation centers, living on yogurt and trail mix all the way across Spain, or, at my favorite Barcelona cafe, earning a reputation as Hummus Salad Girl.  (And yes, I did take pictures of that glorious, glorious creation, too.  Stay tuned.)

Given these circumstances, it was a delight this week to make a simple meal for me and my friend Izzy to share in her Paris apartment.  I whipped up the peanut sauce in the morning at the meditation center, before returning to the city. (Had to take advantage of that bulk pantry: soy sauce, peanut butter, vinegar, lemon, brown sugar, hot chili powder, and toasted sesame seeds.  ‘Round these parts, laying hands on peanut butter in itself is like winning the lottery.)  Arrived in her neighborhood; embarked on a two-to-three-hour Broccoli Hunt.  (Failed, as you can see. Even the pinch-hitting cauliflower was a lucky find at the last minute. Did I mention I’m totally out of my grocery-shopping element here?)  Finally, when it was all made and plated, we sat down to eat.

Now, me, I was okay.  But Izzy, poor Izzy hit the dreaded Spicy Food Deadlock.  You know what I mean: we’ve all been there, no matter what our tolerance level.  Where the dish is delicious, and it’s not quite so hot that you absolutely have to put it aside.  So which waters more: your mouth or your eyes?

Izzy, my dear, I salute you.  It took you two days and three separate attempts to finish that plate of noodles.  And by gum, you did it.