Has a haircut made you consider dropping your career to become a rock star or member of a girl gang? After getting my hair cut on Saturday, I looked like a total badass when I rolled out of bed on Sunday morning. I ran a brush through my updated bob, pulled on a t-shirt with a handgun pattern, and then put on a black jacket and pair of Ray Ban knockoffs for my morning errands. I looked like the kind of woman that would carry a switchblade and know how to use it. And by “know how to use it,” I mean thin slice some sweet potatoes and carve a roast chicken for Sunday dinner.
Truth: Instead of a switchblade, I used a mandolin slicer to cut peeled sweet potatoes for my doomed gratin. It was supposed to be like the quinoa-potato gratin at Juventino, a restaurant down the street from my apartment, but I a) couldn’t get the potatoes sliced thin enough, b) used too much quinoa, and c) didn’t use enough milk and seasonings.