Cooking used to be a chore. Consider early man, who spent a good five hours running his prey to exhaustion, and then, panting over collapsed antelope, had to ponder Step Two.
Ficus is a shrub indigenous to the dorm room, waiting room and boyfriend bedroom. It's unavoidable. Get a boyfriend; endure a ficus.
Rice pilaf sings of hope, of heartbreak, of heedlessness.
Facts now have alternatives. A fact that makes the solid substrate of reality feel strangely spongy. And not in that winsome, Rene Magritte way. Stare at his painting of a pipe, labeled "This Is Not a Pipe," and smirk. True that.
Say good and the antonym shoots back bad. That's the sort of word it is: oppositional, defiant, difficult. It must be tough on the thesaurus, parenting a pack of antonyms.
The revolution demands: Rise up. And desks heed the call. Enough of sitting idle, standing still, holding steady at 29 1/2 inches above the carpeting. Now: They rise.
Bananas are berries. This dire news comes direct from the internet, at the far end of a night of berry-soaked revelry.
Our farmer girl leaves early and comes home dirty. She brings back the spare clump of radishes, the stray gourd, and bulging bags of mustard greens.
Ice is genius. The cube is genius. The ice cube is genius times two to the third. No doubt a large number. And yet, the ice enthusiast maintains aspirations.
"Adulting" can be pronounced two ways: dripping with sarcasm or bristling with scorn. After all, adult is best unadulterated. Either you can hoist a credit score, fix a flat and fold a fitted sheet, or you're not.
Remember Twin Peaks? Remember how the surreal murder mystery was populated with surreal characters: the woman who lugged a log, the dwarf dressed in red, the special agent who tape recorded every move and bite? Me neither.
Semifreddo means semi-frozen. In a good way. A cream-and-custard-packed-in-a-pan-and-stashed-in-the-freezer way. It doesn’t freeze hard, like ice, it freezes soft, like ice cream. Raising questions.
Sous vide, in the grip of an online translator, comes out “under empty.” Who craves a cooking contraption that promises less than zero?
Raw is a brilliant state for lettuce, for talent, for truth. Not so much for mushroom.
Flowers, though quiet, have a lot to say. For instance: I’m sorry. I like you. And, at prom: You’re mine.
The overnight sensation takes time. Consider farro.
Self-rising flour is scarce: bottom shelf, dim cupboard, cracked cookbook.
Crying spaghetti is the bomb, reports a friend, home from Seattle. Obviously. Who can resist a name like that?
Deconstruction once ruled academia. The literary theory insisted that the text (pre-texting) be taken apart, like some Lego castle, and left in pieces on the classroom floor. The game kept professor and student busy for years. Now new fads roam campus, and deconstruction has moved on to the menu.
The cloud, in iconic form, drifts white and puffy. Annoying the professional.
The daffodil wakes up, stretches out of the slush and yawns brilliant yellow. Spring will be sprung, shortly.
The life hack may sound like an ax murderer at the window, but apparently it's a shortcut. Appealing, if suspect.
The deep dive promises sunken treasure, brilliant coral and the odd octopus. Sights we're keen to see.
Remember Stone Soup? In the tale, a stranger wanders into town, hungry. Locals slam their doors. So the guy makes soup.
The early bird, in search of worm, plans ahead: clean socks, full agenda, and a bag stocked with basics — computer, car key, cellphone.
College kids dash out at all hours to Insomnia Cookies for chocolate chunk or oatmeal raisin. What happened to work ethic?
The healthy eater charges through the kitchen, dropping detritus. A fine spray of protein powder, half-drowned cubes of tofu, the scorched remains of lentils. Also egg yolks, forbidden on her healthy lips.
The sandwich in need of housing can't consult Zillow. Nor will the multiple listing service do. She's got to pound the pavement of the actual market, in the bakery aisle.
Cold weather calls for sweater, fire, and cozy tradition, like staying in bed all day, or at least until someone needs a meal or begs to be walked.
Lie back, demands the hair professional. This is a clarifying shampoo, she explains. It helps your hair focus on a time when it was pure, before you stripped, and parched and broke it. It’s called Bain d’Existence.