Today I made 100 beef empanadas, 100 blue cheese shortbreads, and then, in a fit of madness, decided to start on the pork potstickers that I plan to take to a girls' night tomorrow. Why I am making potstickers fast on the heels of 8 dozen empanadas, I have no idea. It's times like this that I realize why I felt a kinship with Julie Powell when I read Julie & Julia (the feeling ended when she imploded in her sequel, Cleaving).
My long suffering husband entertained the kids most of the day while I slept in, then started cooking, and kept on cooking right through to dinner-time (dinner was leftover picadillo filling from the empanadas, on top of pizza dough, topped with feta cheese). I remained cheerful, but I can't deny a touch of insanity, since it is past midnight and now I'm writing about food instead of going to sleep...
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