The illustrated partial companion to Ms. Webb’s Cocktailarium.

It’s not what you think. Or perhaps it is? Read on to see! (A Recipe from A Plain Cookery Book for the Working Classes (by Charles Elmé Francatelli, 1852); adapted for the modern kitchen)

The New York Times just put up an article about beer cocktails, and I’m going to keep the ball rolling here with a few recommendations of my own:

There are sandwiches, and then, oh friends, there are sandwiches. This is one of the latter. The Farmer General recommends having one’s significant other throw one a surprise party with at least ten guests in order to do justice to this feat of bread engineering.

Mató is a fresh cheese made in Catalunya. According to Toni Chueca of Formatge Bauma, Mató it is the most typical cheese of Catalunya because it is simple and fresh. Back when most families had milking animals and land, some of the day’s milk would be transformed into this cheese, right in the kitchen. Nicanor Coscollola of Formatgeria de Tòrrec says there are no secrets to Mató because of this history. Care to give it a try? Here’s what you’ll need:

It is Saturday and your eyeballs are getting tacky from staring at the computer screen. You look outside and are disappointed to see all those active birds– shouldn’t it be dark yet? What have you done today, anyway? You made a tidier-looking pile of dirty laundry, you made a chocolate beet bundt cake that looks very professional but tastes like wet mulch, and now it’s heading towards the gloaming. You see a 10mg Ambien pill on your desk. You:

a) ignore the pill and get to work on that jigsaw puzzle
b) take the pill

A Recipe from A Plain Cookery Book for the Working Classes (by Charles Elmé Francatelli, 1852); adapted for the modern kitchen, should you find yourself in need of an economical supper.

I’m sure I always found the smell of lilacs to be pleasant, but it didn’t really hit home for me until I got a My Little Pony that was somehow infused with the scent. She was one of the tall, slender Ponies and she had a lilac sprig tramp stamp on one of her purple flanks. I would bring her into the bathtub with the rest of my colorful herd, and our frolicking would kick up steam that enveloped me in the warm floral odor. Our frolicking also resulted in clumps of rainbow hair being removed from the clogged drain months later, much to my mother’s disgust.

There’s thunder in my ears and rain in my eyes here in the mountains of Catalunya as I remember another mountain range fifteen years ago.

Dear Diary,

Moneypenny’s been kind enough to allow me to keep this document in that strange pop-up vanity of hers (I’m fairly certain that she thinks I’m not aware of it, however, where is a gentleman to turn when he’s in need of fresh pancake, if not his secretary’s makeup drawer? I ask you). M has demanded that I keep a food diary for Staff Health Initiative Two. Bother. I tried to interest him in my black book instead, but, he muttered something about sciatica and turned to his bank of multi-colored phones for comfort.