Torture

I just cooked six strips of thick-sliced bacon just for the grease, and I used the grease to make a skilletful of cornbread for stuffing. Can you imagine how this house smells right now?

I honestly think being hungry makes you burn calories faster. By the time I got back from the grocery, I was almost shaking with hunger. Thank God my diet allowed me to have that wonderful tuna sandwich. Mmm. Wonderful. Mmm. Four hundred whole calories. I could eat the leg off a chair right now.

I also have cream cheese softening for baklava. This is the kind of recipe cookbook authors dream about. Easy to make, and damn near anything you put in it will taste good. I considered splashing some rum in the pecans, or throwing some dark raisins in the cheese. Haven't gotten to that stage yet, but I know it would work.

When the baklava starts cooking, I may have to check into a hotel.

I plan to brine the turkey tomorrow, for maybe 8 hours. I was going to brine the duck and chicken, too, but I'm afraid to put them in the same water because of cross-contamination. I don't want the various bacteria from the three birds to get together and make something that makes anthrax look enjoyable. I'm not sure if that is possible, but I don't want to take a chance.

But I may anyway.

God help me get through this day. And when I start sauteeing the crabmeat in Marsala, for the white bread stuffing? Just kill me. I'll consider it a kindness. Maybe I could put some VapoRub under my nostrils like they did when they examined the rotting body in The Silence of the Lambs.

I am nearly sure that I am possessed. No one should cook like this. No one should eat like this. I have deep psychological problems.

Photos WILL follow. I shall not suffer alone.

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SUFFER:

And just to prove how great Mom's cast-iron skillet is: