Tough to beat herb marinated grilled chicken, a spread of delicious accoutrements: namely saffron rice, some doohicky microwavable blasphemy that Sarah had handy, fresh salad, green beans, and a limited number of Anheuser Busch's (now InBev) finest elixer.
I like low-key Friday nights. I'm fortunate to be only 78 paces from some of my best friends. They've figured out two things I hold dear: a) I love to cook b) I don't like people coming into my house... and they have capitalized on the obvious. I swear I could make a killing cooking for hire, but I refuse, it's a labor of love.
Soup Loop? Most Southsider's are missing out on surprise deliveries of the Soup de Week. Sure, they're probably miffed at the fact of an idling diesel engine outside their residence, with a man cloaked in cold weather gear scrambling to drop off his latest creation at 5 a.m. on a Monday morning, but I like to think they find a smidge of appreciation once they pop the lid on the tupperware at their feet on their way to work and smell the efforts within. Maybe it gives them a millisecond of peace, with one less thing to worry about, in their schedule of the hectic day's planning? I don't really care, just make sure that tupperware makes it back!
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