1) booze: I like wine, he likes beer.
2) tubers: He loves potatoes, I do not, unless they are yams or sweets, and I just learned that those are technically roots. He has eyes for the stem tubers: potatoes that are white, yellow, purple, waxy, crumbly, Idaho, and who knows what else.
But in an attempt to “top off the carbs”* before tomorrow’s race, I nuked two old potatoes foraged from the bottom of our fruit basket, smashed them with salt and olive oil, and added some chopped tomatoes. I washed it down with a cider/beer shandy concocted by Michael, who has been diligently juicing his way through the carpet of apples our tree, assisted by squirrels, has been laying out for us every morning these past few weeks.
Although the beverage outshone the meal (especially since the fresh cider outshone the beer), I feel a little buoyed knowing I will have some Michael fuel to draw from tomorrow.
*The Mistake: Eating a Box of Pasta