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!
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. ;)