Not all "bachelor gourmet" outings are as successful as my recent pea soup experiment. Today I tried to compose a chorale prelude while "quick soaking" some lentils. In the thrill of inspiration I, predictably, forgot about the lentils. But the fact that my ears were in charge didn't mean my nose was disconnected. It kept sending me interesting signals, leading to the following succesion of thoughts:"Hmmm. Somebody in the building is baking something, maybe cookies. Smells good."
"Is that pipe smoke? It's kind of nice. And it reminds me of my godfather. Those were the days!"
"Huh! Something is burning! Who's the jerk who didn't pay attention to his cooking!"
Oops. That jerk would be me. Me, the jerk with the pot full of dry-roasted lentils, over a thin ripply crust of pure carbon. Hours later, my apartment still smells like slightly overdone cookies - but without the joy of eating them.
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