I'm getting tired of dinner by candlelight.
And "home cooking" just doesn't sound so good anymore, either.
But waiting in line for two hours in the gas-station line only has underscored why dining heatless sometimes is just as good as dining out at a local joint, even when, like me, you dine out for a living.
Last night, it was a breezy 48 degrees at La Casa Gianotti, an eclectic establishment that this morning had a Yellowstone-in-winter view, minus the bison, unless you count a recent burger.
I know. Why bother complaining? I'll never argue that we should have gone deeper in debt to find that perfect waterside site.
Anyway, I haven't hit the expiration dates on the pantry supplies. Tonight's plat du jour: tonno e sarde a la survivalist, or tuna and sardines fresh from can and jar.
If I decide to ignite a gas burner without lighting up anything else, there's always rigatoni marinara. Tomorrow, maybe bucatini with peanut sauce for a Eurasian-fusion treat.
And maybe they'll untangle the fallen trees from the utility pole and the wires before Thanksgiving becomes more challenging.
Meantime, I'm busy writing my drinks column. My initial finding: Some red wines aren't bad slightly chilled.