Notes from Cottonwood

I've been reading a food blog by a woman named Zarina who lives in Talas (link on the left). My sister found it first and she says her church potluck can't have enough of her plov. So I tried it. I got the carrots wrong (cut, not grated, which makes sense: they must stay in sticks) and I stirred the rice because I was nervous, which is apparently a crime in the plov world.

My first plov. The color is better than the taste. Zarina, I'm sorry.

Mark ate three plates. Sam ate rice and left the carrots in a pile on the side of the plate. Lily asked if we could have it every night. I'd say that's a pass.