an awful lot of falafel.

A couple months ago, Noel and I had this genius idea that I was going to quit my job and run a falafel stand with the baby downtown. According to my brief math, we were going to be millionaires in a matter of weeks.

Though our conversation has slowly evolved away from money making genius ideas to who is going to water the plants and what happens if my water breaks at a client's house, I decided to try a falafel recipe. I think I was hoping it was going to be so amazing that Noel would immediately go and buy me a flashy red stand to make my falafels in.

This is what happened.



I hope my mother isn't reading this, because I am ashamed of myself and my Egyptian heritage. My ancestors would be horrified. Noel, who pretty much will eat anything (yes, I have caught him eating food from the kitchen sink) couldn't finish it. He said I should have put 80% less salt than I did. Oops.

We ate chic-fil-a instead.