I have that awful feeling you get after you eat a gross, cobbled-together dinner you weren’t really hungry for but ate anyway because it was dinnertime.

It usually involves microwaved leftovers dipped in salad dressing.

And now I’m simultaneously stuffed and dissatisfied as I troll online for things to make for dinner tomorrow night, New Year’s Eve. I would love to be the mom that makes Julia Moskin’s easy homemade marinara instead of popping open a jar. Or the fabulous wife that whips up Sam Sifton’s Butter Chicken on weeknights. I printed both recipes from the New York Times’ Cooking section. But something tells me that’s as far as it will go.

In happier news, my kids opened a restaurant in our basement. It’s called FoodGym. Here are the menus:

img_7480 img_7481 img_7482

The beef jerky is lovely with a can of Sierra Mist.


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