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Plop Plop Fizz Fizz

When I was growing up, my brother and I used the “plop plop fizz fizz” phrase to describe the sound of solid waste dropping into a toilet.  Yes, boys are VERY mature.  Now, both of us in our thirties, just

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A Weekend of Luxury

Twice we had a babysitter for Baby Harbat this weekend.  Two times.  That’s more than the last six months.  On Friday we got to go out to see Julie and Julia while BH was watched by our neighbor friends.  Sunday

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Time for a New Tack

Disappointment.  There’s my one-word summary of the rustic bread I cut open last night.  From the outside, it had so much promise:  big bubbles, deep brown crust.  But the crumb was tight and uniform.  And it didn’t have enough salt.

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Life in the Kitchen

Now we’re talking!  Last night I had the new oven stretching its legs.  First up was some brown rice, simmering away on one of the back burners.  Next I preheated the oven for some bread.  From what I can tell

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