This post started in my head last night on a hail of f-bombs. It was that bad, but I’ve already slept it off.
The kitchen sink in my apartment had been partially clogged the last week or two. I tried to live with it since the thing did drain eventually, and I was hoping that it would somehow clear up on its own. But my Chinese roommate, little emperor that he is, has not met a single edible item that he did not want to fry, and every night we would end up with grease all over the sink, and I finally had had enough. I tried one of those industrial-strength unclogging solutions from the supermarket, but it did not do the trick. So I asked the office to send someone up to check it out.
I came home to a huge disaster: two burly guys covered in what I could only hope was silt, two gaping holes in the wall, and not only was the kitchen sink backed up, our bathroom sink was now backed up as well, and so were our next-door neighbor’s. Something went horribly horribly wrong somewhere.
I was so looking forward to making Colombian-style beef-bone soup. It’s just soup, really–I’m only trying to impress people *grins* and I only know it because a Colombian neighbor once made it for me. It is made with plantain and yuca root, which is just balinghoy or some variety of it. I planned to throw in lentils just so I could actually eat something; I am a fan of neither yuca nor plantain, but I do think they add flavor. I ended up having a burrito instead, and then I went drinking wine at a neighbor’s, because I did not want to stay in the apartment while the plumbers worked. I plan to finally make the soup tonight and I can only hope that the lentils have not germinated in the fridge, as they’ve been sitting in water for two days now.
(P.S. Absolutely… delicious, is what my Chinese neighbor said when he dropped by as I was sitting down to eat, and I asked him to try the soup. Ha ha.)
