Barring serious accidents, Stuart and I are going out for Mexican tonight. That is VERY good. If we're fortunate, neither of the kids will melt down on Geoff while I'm away, and the proprietors of El Sol will bring us our dinners in less than two hours, and not do their normal act of being surprised that there are customers in their restaurant, and pretend that they've never had anyone actually try to order anything before.
Anyway, I deserve margaritas after the last few nights. I really do.
Why is fish sauce such a gross ingredient, and why does it transform into yumminess when you put it in things?