Mokuyoubi wa kirei deshita

Breakfast was, was...
well, shit. I forget what I had for breakfast yesterday. I guess it was bound to happen sometime. I know I had a banana. That's for sure. I had a piece of toast too. Was that really all?

Anyway, I definitely had a banana and a piece of toast. Breakfast was mostly inconsequential anyway. What really mattered today was lunch.

Lunch was glorious. It was too nice not to sprint out of the building and across Central park to meet a friend for lunch out on a bench. Among the highlights of passers by were a most adorable little jack russel terrier and a small child, maybe about 5 years old, taging along behind his mother carrying a giant stick. My friend and I both complemented him on his stick and he seemed to hold it a little higher, emboldened, as his mother just shook her head.

As for actual food, I started with a wrap i'd made with swiss cheese, roast beef and the peppered turkey breast. I spread a little brown mustard in there, then I added a carrot, cut in to sticks. I started doing that with the tuna and hummus wraps I made because the texture of the mushy food inside the wrap was a little off-putting, especially as the mush looses moisture to the tortilla causing it to take on a saggy, skin-like consistency. The carrots provide a nice bone-like crunch that is no less disconcerting but much more entertaining.

Then my friend and I had a nice walk around central park, taking picutres of his tie and eating the "Giant Peach Cookies" my Japanese friend brought me as a present from Atlanta where she'd spent the weekend before coming to Manhattan. Though the fictional peaches used to make the cookies may have indeed been "giant," these cookies were in fact bite-sized. I am thoroughly baffled by the apparently subconscious, nearly magical ability of the Japanese to find ways to break the English language. I aspire to cause equivalent delight in Japanese people as I (mostly unintentionally) mangle their language that defies my attempts at cognation (the process of forming cognates? Ed.) and translitteration.

Our nice meander as we discussed modern art and transformer porn left us at the southeast corner of the park, and left me with a nice jaunt back to work with a PBJ and some water to punctuate the nice girls who deigned to wear clothes in the blistering 70F weather and the other people who decided to wear a jacket while walking their dogs or a few other people's dogs just in case the sunshine was a big scam. Spring time in Central Park, folks. Just like the movies.

After that delightful dining adventure, I was all too happy to have a tame, low-investment dinner. Celery and peanut butter as an appetizer and a baked potato covered in chili for a main course, by which I don't mean a broken, steaming spud laden with beef seasoned with chili powder and some dregs of what might have been peppers and onions, but rather a bowl of my roommate's left-over chili that I like even better than my own chili and which is actually fairly balanced nutritional fare sporting a plethora of different legumes and vegetables (things like carrots and chickpeas that are probably going to have chili purists up in arms) which I microwaved and into which I quite unceremoniously plopped a whole baked potato and then proceded to shovel into my person with a spoon. Whew, glad I got my run-on quota out of the way.

I recommend my readers try this, but I also recommend that you only half-fill a large bowl rather than filling a normal bowl so as to allow for displacement as you dig at the baked potato. I get a certain ammount of glee at the presentation-hack involved in the big unsightly rock in the middle of an overlarge bowl surrounded by an unsightly mess of red bits leaving greasy tomato stains around the edges of some nice white porcelain. Anybody want to help fund my restaurant ideas?