Hotter than …

Just a quickie today to share some love.




For anyone within a reasonable drive of Raleigh, NC, I hope to hell you’ve visited the state farmer’s market.  I’d forgotten what a treat it is, what really neat people are there, and well, let’s not forget, it’s where I learned about Climax.

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Red Hot

I assume we have an understanding. You all know that  I have what could be described as a tomato fetish.  I don’t like to go more than a couple of days – and I mean only two – without ingesting something tomato-y.  So, Summertime in the South means absolute breathless anticipation of those juicy, sun-warmed ripe, ugly beasts that actually taste like a tomato, instead of those strange, flavorless,  uniform globes in  the grocery store the other 9 months of the year.

The perfect tomato is lumpy, imperfect, warm, eaten just sliced.   Sometimes I will enjoy a purist tomato-sandwich, but I prefer my Summer, vine-ripened homely beauties warm, sliced, and, if not plain on their own, coupled with some basil and aged-balsamic.  That is perfection for me.   I do not want my tomatoes jazzed up.  Keep it simple.

So, imagine my delight and sheer giddiness when I learned of a dinner with tomatoes at every course.  What other heaven is there?


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Two Hundred Twelve and Eight Hundred Forty Two

Let’s talk about Chemistry.

The Periodic Table of Elements was not my favorite thing in the 10th grade.  It was a necessary evil.  My chemistry teacher had the requisite wire-rimmed glasses, and wore the requisite plaid, short-sleeved button downs (why, guys, why?!).  And, when we would have much prefered to focus on biology rather than chemistry, we had to memorize this:




You remember that, right?   I’m sure you do.   So, why, then, is chemistry so elusive?  Do you remember the element with the hottest boiling point? Tunsgsten? Uranium?  I don’t remember.  I don’t care , actually, because, these days that ‘s not the sort of chemistry I’m interested in. And, since you people pay more attention when I talk about dating or “heat”, read on.

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Hot and cold.

Guys , I don’t know what it is with you and food.  I think , perhaps, some of you think cooking is difficult, time consuming and therefore , not worth it.  One of my standard questions in the dating-that’s-really-an-interview process is: “So, do you cook?” 

There are many reasons I ask, but one of them is that it’s fucking sexy when a man I’m attracted to can cook me something, and cook it well  – that’s not a euphemism, but it usually, conveniently, translates into other areas. One of my favorite guy-cooked-for-me memories was when a boyfriend of mine  sauteed shrimp in butter and garlic – and that’s what we had for dinner.  Simple, yummy, drippy, slippery, and good.  He wasn’t a culinary wizard, but he had confidence in that dish – he knew he could do it and do it well. And he did.

But, this post isn’t about men and cooking.  



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Some Like it Hot.

By now, you know that I like things hot.

I have commented on what I prefer to see men in. I have written about my love for tomatoes, grits soufflés, German beer and complicated sex. 

I have alluded to, but not quite elaborated on , that dangerous state of being a Cougar.  


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