Today is Saturday, May whatever. This morning I woke up and FINALLY gave myself permission to be sick. After uttering those words to my bedside lamp, the already straining cork that had been clinging on for dear life where head meets nose the past 4 days, holding back the gush of mucus (gross), finally popped.

I am sick.

Which, in all honesty, just being sick actually feels better than my mind knowing that my body is sick but demanding, “Man up, soldier! YOU ARE NOT SICK.” Yesterday was a big day, when Holly, my editor, flew all the way down from Vermont (brrr) to Florida (aaaahhh) and spent the day with me in the kitchen. It just would have sucked to be snottin’ and sneezing all over the food. It was an absolute must that I was healthy - er- at least functioning fairly well for that day.

Our plan was to spend the day cooking, testing/writing recipes, photographing, eating and editing. Ok, really, my agenda was to distract her as much as possible in the kitchen, get her drunk so that we could forget about editing. Cuz me no likey editing. You could threaten to take a hammer to my cherished kiwi Le Creuset baby dutch oven and I still would choose THAT over picking apart words and trying to come up with a suitable phrases to replace my babbling, wandering musings and cussing. <– that sentence was a run-on and probably didn’t make much sense.

But, I’m totally stoned on Nyquil right now. So back the hell off.

I wanted to show Holly what a “day in the life of a deranged, disorganized food blogger, cookbook-author wannabe” would be like. And boy, did I work her ass off. We created 4 new recipes, photographed them for the book and fed the dinner party for that evening. I had scribbled down recipes for 4 dishes that I had created in my SICK BUT NOT SICK head and when she arrived, I thrusted my notes to Holly and said, “here are my recipe notes!”

They really shouldn’t be classified as “recipes,” because they looked like this:

hoisin, honey, ginger but maybe garlic or maybe just omit both, how about orange marmalade? could use palm sugar too, 5sp, S+P, ribs, slow+low and glaze.

Holly looked at me with the “this is a recipe? are you fucking serious, lady?” look and then muffled into her sleeve, “bluejay calling mother hen…red alert..I REPEAT…red alert…operation steamykitchen is a no go….requesting permission to abort mission.”

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Since I’ve been working on my cookbook, which is all about modern Asian cooking, almost everything edible that comes out of my kitchen has been Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Vietnamese, Malaysian or Korean. Yes, it can be tiring and I’m considering starting a new blog called “Steamy Kitchen, UnAsian” just to break the monotony. Gimme some Brazilian! Moroccan! Australian!

My family has been begging for something different, and everytime that I ask the kids, “so what do you want for supper tonight?” They chime excitedly, “McDonald’s HAPPY MEALS! Hip, hip, HOORRAYYYY!”

Which is fine. I give in. Because I do love me some McD french fries dipped in soft serve ice cream. I know, You’re groaning. It’s a leftover habit and craving from my pregnancy days.

Please tell me that I’m not alone in this craving! Please tell me that you, too have strange culinary cravings and secret flavor combinations that just make other people squirm uncomfortably in their pants.

Tell me and I’ll enter you in the drawing to win one of three gorgeous Cooking Light The Complete Cookbook - this baby is MASSIVE, weighing in at 4.4lbs with 1,200 recipes, 630 color photographs and a companion DVD. Plus I think there is an offer for 1 free year of Cooking Light magazine subscription inside.

OHOHOH! And there’s a bonus…at the end of this post.

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