Cassoulet

Mistah woke up yesterday morning with one thought in his head, one thing in his mind, only one goal to achieve.

Cassoulet.

Cassoulet!

I drove Westy to the pool, Mistah drove Subie to the grocery store, and he came home with all the things he needed to do the necessary . . .

. . . and then he started cooking.

You know the ingredients for a cassoulet, right?

Broccoli . . .

. . . pasta . . .

. . . white beans . . .

. . . stir them all together . . .

. . . and do not forget the broccoli rabe . . .

. . . or the mushrooms . . . 

Said Schleck of the shrooms: "This is the closest thing I have to duck."

Meanwhile . . . 

. . . on the deck . . .

. . . Schleckie kept presenting all his ingredients . . .  

. . . the kid had ingredients.

See? Hot Italian sausage . . .

. . . throw it in there, Mistah.

. . . right on in.

[this was my view when I was not photographing my husband. I know, right??]

Cheeeeese!

More Cheeeeeeeese . . .

.  . . still more cheeeeeese . . .

Okay. Wait. "WHAT is going on here," I finally asked. "What are you making? And why?"

"A cassoulet," Bill replied. "I saw it in the Times."

It's the perfect NYTimes Magazine recipe. It starts with: "Day One". Or as my Mom describes the Magazine's recipes, "Get a pig . . . "

But Mistah likes to make his own recipes out of others' recipes . . .

. . . But still . . . 

"Um Bill?" I said. "Yes?" "I don't think you've made a cassoulet . . . "

"I haven't?"

"No, dude . . .

 . . . you've made a baked ziti . . . "

". . . I have?"

"Yes. And it's the best in all the world."

Thanks, dude. And cheers.