Why am I so susceptible to the power of suggestion? Last night I was talking to Kristine about romano beans stewed slowly in olive oil and fresh grated tomatoes. Now I am making it. I ran into Jim at the grocery and he was buying pancetta. So look what I had to make just now. I literally only heard the phrase chicken soup as a woman was about to pick up a can. I want that. So some freshly made stock is simmering away on the stove. It's terrible, I can't hear a single food item even mentioned without wanting it. Christian tells me he's making spaetzle. I want that too. To go in the stock of course. This is what happens when you really love every food on earth. A blessing or a curse?