I had a pretty bad day at work, so I came home and crawled into bed with a book that horror of horrors did not pertain to either work or aphasia. I expect the Brain Injury police momentarily. When I woke up, I cleaned the house to settle my nerves. That and I had a martini. (What? It was after 5. Don't judge me.) Also I sent drunk emails to loved ones, so Transient O, please forgive me.

I had a bowl of soup and debated my next course of action. Even at that point I recognized it probably shouldn't involve another martini. I'd like to be able to tell y'all that I sprung into action and went and worked out, wrote the rest of my paper, brought peace to the Middle East and universal health care to the US, but realistically I read another 50 pages of McNally's Luck by Lawrence Sanders. After that, I made foccaccia.

My favorite and most endangered cookbook is the UC Davis Coffeehouse Cookbook, a spiral-bound, limited edition collection of recipes that played a huge part in my misspent edumacatin'd youth. There are scone recipes and frosting recipes ("Why I remember when you could get a coffee house mug refill and a cookie for under a dollar!" "Sandra, you are OLD.") and Cheezy Albatross Salad (mock not until you've tried it), bagel spreads and soups (the aforementioned soup? Yeah, that's a UCDCC one. Pestomato. I believe it is El Yo's favorite.) and of course, foccacia. The first time I made this recipe, El Yo scoffed (actual honest-to-good scoffing, with realistic snorting action!) because this bread is not flat and chewy, but incredibly puffy and garlicky. It is awesome with industrial grade mustard. This cookbook is endangered because it invariably winds up face down in a puddle of recipe on the counter.

Boy My Day Was Foccacia'd Up