We are what we eat. We eat. We shit. Our produce grow from shit-fertilized soil. We become shit. Festive as that may be, enter the the "Eatateria," to discover an ever-increasing assortment of recipes for lovely meals, which we will soon shit out.
I eat, and I shit; therefore, "I am."
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Dear Kenny Shopsin
Your food is God. Not "good." Yes. "God." Wish I lived local enough to be a regular (tho some might argue I'm more "irregular"). Well worth the schlep into the city to be in the presence of greatness. 'Tis a true a shame when I have to shit it out 24 hours later.