The Cookbook Chronicles:

Things go missing in Mexico--pale skin, iPods, drugs, people. You leave something out in the open, unattended, and the next thing you know it's gone. People just take shit.
Last February I left my Lacoste flip flops beside my chair at the beach and when I went to pack up and go home they had vanished. Gone. I had to hail a cab to take me home. I wasn't about to traverse the dirty Vallarta cobblestones barefoot....

At work the other day Joe says to me, "Ryan how long have we known each other? Over a year, right?"
"Ah, ya. That's right," I said.
"So what's my last name?" he asked.

Yesterday, while writing the recipe for Frijoles de Olla (our house beans) I came across a word I didn't know so I plugged it into Google Translator. The list of ingredients called for un chingo de sal. It's some sort of measurement for salt but "what...

I could think of much worse places to write. Thisis the view from my work station and where the words for Joe Jack's cookbook will be digitized. It's also where I watch Spanish soaps and countless episodes of any of the CSI franchise when I need a break...