meow meow meow meow.

Above: view from my train to Rotterdam today.

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If I haven't mentioned it before, let me do so now: I firmly believe that there is some sort of Darwinian function of the feline attention span. The amount of time that it takes me to be awoken and fall back asleep is the exact amount of time it takes Jo3n to remember that I didn't feed her the last time she meowed. It goes (somewhat predictably) like this:

Me: (sleeping)

Jo3n: Meow!

Me: (waking up) Wha?

Jo3n: (silence)

Me: (silence)

Jo3n: Meow.

Me: No. Please.

Jo3n: (extended silence)

Me: Thank you.

Jo3n: (silence for ten minutes)

Me: (falling asleep)

Jo3n: Meow!

Me: (waking up) Wha?

Jo3n: Meow.

Me: I will destroy you, Jo3n.

Jo3n: (slightly differently) Meow.

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Between 6am and 8am while cursing Jo3n as quietly as possible I read David Chang's Momofuku cookbook, a gift from my lovely mother. It's actually something you can read, with probably 20 or 30 pages of essays dealing with Chang's obsessive ramen tasting or crazy-impulsive restaurant opening decisions. It's all entertaining enough, if you can deal with the slightly self-congratulatory hipsterish slant, sort of like a less charming and even more occasionally funny Bourdain.

Luckily, the recipes look fantastic and truly educational. There's something about the cooking approach here that's surprisingly AWOL in the cookbooks I've been picking up lately: a sense of improvisational excitement and a real preoccupation with taste. Plus, he has recipes that combine sriracha and mayonnaise.