Baked Falafel, Martin John, and What I'm Craving
WELL, WE HAVE MADE IT ANOTHER WEEK. Although it's been a doozy. On the bright side, the weather has been lovely. I've been spending a lot of time in the sun (hello, softball league), and as a direct result of this (cannot confirm, just speculation (please don't ask me if I'm pregnant; I am not)), I've been craving some weird things. Example: elote. Indian food. Very thick, slightly gooey chocolate chip cookies. Fruity IPAs. Margaritas. The list goes on.
Usually, I try not to indulge in these cravings, which ranges in consequence from me staring into the fridge and sighing deeply for a few minutes to getting irrationally angry when the corn salad I make doesn't taste the way I want it to. IT'S FINE. But when the news looks the way it did this week, exceptions can be made.
This week, that resulted in my making falafel. As a compromise with the tiny part of my brain that retained its rationality, I did not deep fry said falafel as I have so many times before. Was it the same? Nope. Was it easier, healthier, and faster? Yep. So was it worth it? I think so. Craving = satisfied.