Our writers' group meets once a week to critique each others' stories. It's been a slow year, so far; only a few stories have trickled in. We used to have at least one story every week. At one point we did a "dare", where each of us was assigned a date and had to produce a story by then, or else (we never did find out what the "or else" involved. Probably just as well. We have two horror writers in our group.)
Mike is the cook. Whenever we go on retreats, we go when he's available because he feeds us. One such retreat, I recall, we had a Moroccan lamb-and-apricot stew, with couscous. I hate lamb - this was absolutely DELICIOUS. If he wasn't married already, I would have nabbed him myself. And he always makes French toast for breakfast, which we have with REAL maple syrup (not that stuff that pretends to be maple syrup) and REAL butter (do I hear the sound of arteries hardening? Good!). And David's brewed-in-hell coffee (strong enough to dissolve metal), and I make my fruit salad, which usually consists of strawberries, blueberries, grapes, canteloupe, banana and fresh pineapple.
Sara is the baker. She makes this chocolate cake that requires 1 lb. - yes, I said ONE POUND - of semi-sweet chocolate. We describe it as having the density of a neutron star, and we have dubbed it the Death By Chocolate cake (it's other name is Darkness with the Absence of Light Cake which is an inside joke too complex to explain). She's been experimenting with chocolate chip cookie recipes, which is horning in my domain a bit, and she also does an almond torte that is to die for. Plus these tiny little coconut-lime muffins that have people make moaning noises usually associated with orgasms.
Come to think of it, we haven't gone on a retreat in a really, really long time. Hmmm....
