As a political reporter, Election Day night meant either stuffing my face with pizza with butt parked in front of my computer in the newsroom, waiting for results to come in, or shoving McDonald’s in my mouth quickly before heading to a candidate’s victory/not victory party for the evening. Even though I don’t miss the political reporter stage of my life, I do occasionally ache for that pizza and the buzz of the newsroom on Election Day night.
It’s been four years since I’ve properly covered an Election Day, but I think I finally figured out an acceptable replacement for the pizza. The Modern Love Machine
called in sick had the day off and spent part of the day butchering, searing and rendering the fat of a duck. That meant I spent Election Day night on the couch, in my yoga pants eating and drinking the following:
I think I’ll take this version of Election Day.