Seven chickens managed to turn production up to eleven during the overnight.
Is always an option:
Yeah, it’s a 177 caliber, break-barrel, nitro-piston pellet rifle. Yes, it is ugly. Yes, it is tacticlol as hell. Yes, I plan to clip lazorz and lightz on the railzzzzzzz. Yes, the can is totally fake. Yes, the bolt handle is real but screwed into the shell and does not move. Yes, the included scope is awful.
And I will print out alien targets to tape to cans and make pewpew space sounds while shooting.
This is what happens when I am given a stack of gift cards with no supervision.
Verdict: Yup, eggs.
Anything involving bacon grease and cast iron is alright by me.
From the pepper steak pie was excuse enough for a quiche:
Still need to dig our pie plates out of storage. Then I can whine that we have too many cluttering the kitchen after Christmas when the frozen tourtière get baked and return the frosty Pyrex to service.
Is for people paid to do this:
Wilted beet greens and stems with chili paste, garlic, and a drizzle of salty vinegar-broth-stuff from my last batch of onion/carrot/beet quick pickle. Pickapeppa sauce splotched on the pie.
That has never happened to me, before.
But I do have a skillet and the pepper steak pie will out.