It's no big secret that I haven't been cooking much lately. There is no grand single reason for this, just how life has played out. I'm unable to cook when travelling, which makes falling into a slump of eating out more likely. After an overly long hiatus, I'm back in the kitchen.
The toughest part of salvation is finding inspiration. When infected with what I'll refer to as sloth-itis, not only do energy levels atrophy, but so does creative genius. As I lay in bed, symptoms worsening, I find myself wrapped up in blankets. Could it be another stage of my regression, or has someone mastered the use of their voodoo doll?
Before I'm totally lost in the cocoon, I think of how much I must resemble a human burrito. Wait a minute, I can make a burrito or tortilla involved dish-- that's still cooking. But what kind? I only know one kind-- the Vietnamese tacos (Spike homage) that I've mentioned so many times but never really explained. Indecision conquered.