Mastering the Art of Drunk Cooking. Staring out of the window, however, I’m reminded that we don’t get to try out this springtime.

Mastering the Art of Drunk Cooking. Staring out of the window, however, I’m reminded that we don’t get to try out this springtime.

A six-pack and three cocktails deep if the world’s going to end, why not attempt three gourmet meals while a bottle of Prosecco?

Staring out of the screen, viewing the California sunlight immerse into each part regarding the yard, I’m reminded so it’s enough time of the year once I have the desire to fling open the doorway and ask my buddies in.

The longer times and balmy weather make it feel just like just the right time for you to fire up a grill and wade to the kidney-bean pool within my 1960s apartment complex. So when my buddies crash through the building and into my family room, they inevitably bring gifts of wine and liquor — a march of labels and containers we don’t recall, poured in to the exact same spectacles we constantly scrounge up.