The following day could have been spent in bed, doing nothing. Although I had scheduled the day off, assuming I would be suffering from a headache and body aches from drinking too much at the wedding reception, I worked. Unexplained energy seeped into my system, and I found myself in the kitchen for more than six hours, testing four recipes: cherry and nutmeg cookies, pine nut- and apricot-stuffed chicken, barbecue tenderloin quesadillas, and molten lava cake. Three of the four recipes passed. Unfortunately, the molten lava cake, lacking chocolate appeal and becoming a mud puddle of yuck, ended up in what I had labeled the damaged recipe file, preventing it from being showcased in the final copy of Milo’s Kitchen Tales.
I wasn’t surprised Jay and Michael hadn’t contacted me all morning an
