the crimson mistress

I had all the intentions for a well-balanced meal. I had bought my veal scaloppini for an, albeit, politically incorrect entree, but after an instant sauté carefully paired with fresh lemon sauce, white wine, and plump capers even this milk-fed tender cow would understand why I had to do it. To go with my meat I had lugged out my super-sized industrial rice maker, whose wide and shiny chrome exterior parallels that of a small car. It came from the top shelf of my garage, buried amongst the cemetery of culinary items I thought I couldn’t live without (but turns out I can). Underneath these gadgets is another shelf filled with a rainbow of toxic paints from nine years’ worth of wall history in our house. This is the shelf my husband swears he can’t …Read on