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The blind man had found a jar of batter in the refrigerator and was pressing waffles into shape between the hinged metal pans of a waffle iron. Luka could see the batter sizzling and darkening as it spilled over the circumference of the pan.

-The Brief History of the Dead by Kevin Brockmeier

When I was growing up my favorite breakfast was buttermilk waffles with just butter. Syrup was sometimes applied, but I often felt it wasn't needed. Now my tastes have changed somewhat, and my husband prefers savory more than sweet breakfasts, so I rarely make myself waffles any longer. The Brief History of the Dead gave me a good excuse to have them this past weekend.

As you can see though, I wound up with pancakes instead.

The dinner is delicious, but I pick at my food because at court there is always someone watching you, and I don't want to seem greedy. Our table faces the front of the hall, so it is natural that I look up to see the king at his dinner. In his rich clothes and great collar of gold you might mistake him for one of the old pictures over an altar; I mean, a picture of God. He is so grand and so broad and so weighted with gold and jewels, he sparkles like an old treasure mountain. There is a cloth of gold spread over his great chair, with embroidered curtains hanging down on either side, and every dish is served to him by a servant on his knees. Even the server who offers him a golden bowl to dip his fingers and wipe his hands does so on bended knee. There is another server altogether to hand him the linen cloth. They bow their heads as well when they kneel to him, as if he were of such unearthly importance that they cannot meet his eyes.

-The Boleyn Inheritance by Philippa Gregory

Reading a novel by Philippa Gregory is like eating chocolate. It's so smooth, rich, and delicious that I find myself disappointed every time I finish one of her books. My only consolation is that I still have yet to read all of them - and hopefully she'll never stop writing.

Historical novels need to be written well for me, and hers meet my expectations. This one centers around Henry VIII and three ladies in his court - you know, the one who had multiple wives and killed nearly every one of them. You can almost taste the fear of the women who surrounded him, and wonder how any of them wound up surviving.

For the last few weeks I have been really looking forward to this weekend, because it's a long weekend (Happy President's Day!). I joked around with one of my co-workers on Friday that I'd probably be sick since I sometimes manage to get sick when I am able to wind down from the stresses of work. I think that I cursed myself, because I started my day at 5:45 on Saturday morning (when I was supposed to be fully in the middle of sleeping, thank you very much) with the most miserable and disgusting bout of stomach flu I've had in a while. I'll spare you the gory details, but let's just say it wasn't pretty.

And to be honest I have not been this sick in years. Husband and I kept trying to figure out how on earth I managed to get it. Did he somehow give it to me? Was it from the salad bar at work? Did I get it from that girl that I shook hands with on Friday? Alas, no matter where I got it my weekend plans were busted, and I spent the majority of it eating applesauce and these:

As you remember, a few weeks ago I made no-knead bread, a.k.a. Homemade Artisan Bread. As I was surfing the internet this evening I ran across a video from the New York Times which shows the exact process of how to make this bread. It's sometimes good to see how someone else does it, because reading or even looking at pictures can't quite convey what happens and what the results are. For me it's more of a confirmation that I did it right. I probably took more time and effort, but even then, mine still turned out much like it did for the baker in this video. Now I just have to go make it again...

UPDATE - If you can't see the video embedded below here is the link to watch it on YouTube.

"We love you, man," the postman said, and held out a glass like you'd hold out a bag of something made by the sea. We all want what's in the bag. You'd have to be crazy not to take some. Have you ever had a mango lassi? Thick down the throat, crazy orange, delicious and happy if you like that sort of thing? What else can a fellow do, in the grip of mango and yogurt and fruit, spun up into a substance just like love? It is love. It's a part of it.

-Adverbs by Daniel Handler

I feel as if I am giving you this post a week in advance. I also feel that since I am giving you a recipe inspired by love that I should probably give you another one next week on (or near) the 14th.

I'm spoiled by novels. They are easy, seamless, and satisfying. You start it knowing that the characters you have come to know and love (ah love) are going to have their issues resolved. But this book was completely different. I started off by learning about Andrea and "I" and Peter, then I went to chapter two, and I was learning about someone else. It was as if the book was both a collection of short stories about completely unrelated people and a book about the same people. So I am not sure what to tell you. It was completely illogical as a novel, but that may have been part of the point. It was a book about love, and love is not always considered to be logical.

I just wanted to let you all know that we have been experiencing some server issues for the last few days - so if you came to www.noveleats.com and you found nothing, don't worry! I am still here, and it looks like things have been resolved.

I'll try to post again over the weekend, so stay tuned.