No, not [that](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jayson_Blair) kind of fabricator.

Last night I was making a recipe (a streamlined coq au vin from [Cook’s Illustrated](http://www.cooksillustrated.com)) calling for boneless, skinless chicken thighs. Chicken thighs are one of my favorite ingredients. In their bone-in, skin-on form, they require almost no prep and you can marinate and roast them or brown them and make a stew. The boneless ones are easy to slice for enchilada filling or stir-fry, or grind to make meatballs. And they’re required for chicken satay.

Naturally, QFC was out of boneless thighs. They carry four different brands and were out of all of them. Was there a run on chicken thighs? The great chicken thigh panic of 2007? I thought about making something else for dinner, but I had coq au vin on my mind and most of the rest of the ingredients in my fridge.

Then I realized: hey, who is the cook here? They had bone-in thighs. I bought eight of those and steeled my boning knife. I had my boneless, skinless thighs before the wine was done reducing for the braising liquid, plus a snack of crispy chicken skin while no one was looking. By the time I boned the last one, I was pretty good at it.

For turning drudgery into a hobby, this sets a new standard.

**Historical note:** My band Cat Piss Lint Trap had a song called “Boning the Chicken” in 1996.

I’m pretty good at getting out of Whole Foods without too many impulse buys, but what was I supposed to do about this?

Yes, it’s a chocolate bar with bacon. I knew the price would be absurd, but obviously I’d put an unneeded limb on eBay to get it.

The bar turned out to be $7, and it’s *fantastic*. The bacon is not just a gimmick. They manage to keep the bacon crunchy, and it also has smoked salt in it. I would eat this bar every day.

Once I was writing an article in which I explained that I’d found a bacon-enhanced recipe for scallion pancakes but was passing it by because scallion pancakes were perfectly good without bacon. Casting about for a comparison, I said, “I’d probably eat tarte tatin with bacon.” That was before Amanda Hesser wrote an item for the New York Times entitled “Who put the pancetta in the apple tart? Good move.” Now, I’m trying to think of *something* that I would actually be averse to putting bacon in, and I can’t think of anything.

I guess it’s true what they say.

We went to the Broadway farmers market today and, as far as I can tell, brought back some of everything. Shelling beans, tomatillos, chiles, peaches, apples, onions, shallots, garlic, salad mix, other things I’m forgetting, and corn.

The corn is gone. I converted it to pudding.

I learned about corn pudding in the June issue of Saveur. In the photo, it looked like some kind of corn casserole, but then the ingredients turned out to be: corn, salt, butter. I Googled around today looking at other corn pudding recipes, and couldn’t find anything half as simple as Saveur’s. Other recipes had things like herbs and spices, eggs, milk, flour, canned corn, all of which are unnecessary.

Here’s how I made corn pudding–apologies to the original recipe, which called for three times as much corn and some sort of corn surgical device we don’t keep on hand.

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Take four fresh ears of corn and grate them on the big-holed side of a box grater. Keep grating, flipping each ear over top-to-bottom after a while, until the corn is no longer giving up much milk. You’ll know you’ve done well if the ear is *much* lighter when you’re done and your arm hurts. You’ll have a big pile of wet corn mush. Stir in 1/2 teaspoon salt and put it in a small oval baking dish. (I used the always fashionable Emile Henry Le Potier.) Dot the top with 2 tablespoons butter. Bake until bubble and nicely browned, 45 to 60 minutes.

Summed up in one word, corn pudding is *sticky.* The browned, crispy bits are even stickier. Five out of five dentists agree that you should never eat corn pudding. I had to floss and brush immediately after dinner. But I’m going to make it again anyway.

Iris and I were playing a game where we put on pretend costumes to scare Laurie. We hit a snag when we ran out onto the balcony making what we thought were very scary monster noises, but our neighbor Brenda laughed.

**Me:** I’m going to be an evil sushi chef.

**Iris:** People won’t be scared, they will just laugh.

**Me:** I’ll have a big sharp knife so they’ll be scared. What are you going to be?

**Iris:** You need to think of something very scary for me, not funny.

**Me:** Okay, how about an evil magician?

**Iris:** That’s funny.

**Me:** A wolf that bites people?

**Iris:** That will just make people laugh. I’ll think of my own costume.

*(pause)*

**Iris:** I’ve got it! An evil English muffin!

**Me:** (cracks up)

**Iris:** Okay, not that.