These last few weeks have been, to put it gently, mental. Working overtime some days, without breaks most days, and sans decent meals every day, it would be an understatement to say I have been in a food rut.
I don’t want anymore homemade pizzas on store-bought shells; I don’t want to eat so much caesar salad until I, too, smell like Parmesan cheese; I don’t want to keep assembling my food out of jars, bags and lethargy. So I riffed on bruschetta and made mushroom and olive toast!
Natural progression, I know. I thought so too. Continue reading