Number 1
Last Friday, we decided spur of the moment to do some BBQing. John had gone shopping and picked up some organic chicken breasts.
When I got home from work, I pulled open the fridge, looking for the familiar shrink wrapped packaging.
Me: Honey, where’s the chicken
H: I’m brining it
Me: You what?
That’s right folks. Husband, of his own volition, looked up a recipe for chicken breast in the grilling cookbook, prepared a brine (not just sugar, salt and water but also lemon, onion and spices), and soaked it. He then grilled it to perfection.
And it was DELICIOUS. I was so proud!
Number Two
This is not really a story so much as an expectation of a story. Husband and I have been telling Miss D for a week that her Grandma is coming to visit. (Grandma De-Intimidator that is) She hasn’t seen Grandma De-I since her birthday so we weren’t sure if Miss D’d remember her. Turns out we needn’t have worried. Since Monday, every time we mention Grandma is coming, Miss D says that Grandma will make her a chocolate cake. (Which is exactly what Grandma did for her birthday!) Yesterday it expanded to a purple cake.
Husband: A purple cake? What will it taste like Miss D?
Miss D: Chocolate!
I’m going to let it be surprise for Grandma. ;)
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5 comments:
I would love to make Yelena a chocolate - um - purple cake! How about a chocolate cake with purple frosting?
Wow - verification of Marcel Proust - the power of the memory of taste.
And John (sob!), I'm so proud of you.
Of course purple tastes like chocolate. We parents just don't know anything! ;)
Purple Chocolate cake...mmmmm, my favorite.
although I wonder if you could make beet cake and have it turn out purple?
John, way to go!
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