So I’ve been doing a lot of eating over the past week. My sister is up from Fort Myers. She loves food almost as much as I, and eats almost as much. But she’s svelte. Life isn’t fair. Wendy claims she’s not a cook, but that may be a ploy to get me to decide on and prepare all the meals. She gets away with it, though, by doing the cleaning up and washing dishes.

I’m in Prague this week, traveling with my adventurous adult daughter, K.J. Gormley. She’s an intrepid explorer, taking her job on the road across oceans and continents. (Did you catch her Chats with Champions from August about working remotely? If not, you can hear the entire chat available on Skidompha Library’s YouTube channel.) I have the privilege of tagging along on some of her adventures.

Last week my neighbor gave me a recipe for a steak-and-mushroom ale soup. It sounded like a perfect thing to cook during the expected nor’easter that we were being bombarded with warnings about on the weather stations.

I remember a day at the cafeteria in college when we were served fried bologna for lunch. It was bad enough getting stuff like that in the high school cafeteria.

That’s pronounced crisp pie, not crispy, on the off chance you care.

It’s a combination of apple crisp and apple pie. Duh.