Prep Time 15 Minutes?
What a day out there. Gray and forgettable - except for that fact that it’s 50 degrees. In the middle of January? There’s nothing forgettable about that. The weather held out for a pretty nice weekend. Supposedly we got some rain; I say supposedly b/c the sidewalks were always wet when I was outside, but I didn’t see or hear this alleged precipitation. That’s my kind of rain.
On Saturday Brent’s parents and sister came over to meet Binx and treat themselves to a home-cooked meal. You see, I was sipping freely on the wine Christmas Eve and mentioned how I’ve been cooking tons lately (“tons” meaning twice a week, which is tons when you think about how it used to be never) and would love to show off my newly polished kitchen skills.
Except that these “skills” aren’t really polished yet. And probably aren’t even real talent; is mixing cool whip and cake mix together for the most delicious dip you’ve ever had considered a skill? (hopefully you fab readers are nodding and thinking, pssh, a highly covetable one at that!)
My sister Beth came over Friday night to help me prep. When I pictured the scene in my head, she was watching the latest Lifetime trainwreck from the living room, I was contentedly chopping veggies from the kitchen, and we’re sharing a bottle of wine while discussing who greenlit Lindsay Lohan to play Elizabeth Taylor (b/c seriously? They should be fired).
In actuality, Beth and I were both in the kitchen, trying to hear the TV over the blender that I decided could serve as a food processor, chopping veggies for apps on Saturday, and simultaneously realizing that we didn’t need to hear every word of Liz and Dick to know that it was an absolute disaster. And I don’t mean in that awesomely bad way that Lifetime moves are; I mean it was a dismal, hands-down FAIL. The only entertaining part was looking up every so often and seeing what kind of wig Lindsay had on.
It was a good thing the movie didn’t hold my interest b/c I needed all my attention focused on the fact that no matter how long a recipe says it will take, my version of it is three times as long. The dessert I wanted to make (“easy” chocolate cheesecake squares; I don’t know what’s “easy” about sticking your hand down a blender to scrape crumbled wafers from the blade) had a prep time of 15 minutes. The chef who created that recipe was obviously high; I couldn’t even rummage through my fridge to find all the ingredients in 15 minutes (eureka moment: next time I put away my groceries, I’m going to have a system).
All our hard work was worth it when B’s mom dished compliment after compliment Saturday afternoon. I’m very much motivated by recognition, so the “mmm’s” and contented chewing was all the appreciation I needed. That and the fact that B did the dishes afterwards.
On Saturday Brent’s parents and sister came over to meet Binx and treat themselves to a home-cooked meal. You see, I was sipping freely on the wine Christmas Eve and mentioned how I’ve been cooking tons lately (“tons” meaning twice a week, which is tons when you think about how it used to be never) and would love to show off my newly polished kitchen skills.
Except that these “skills” aren’t really polished yet. And probably aren’t even real talent; is mixing cool whip and cake mix together for the most delicious dip you’ve ever had considered a skill? (hopefully you fab readers are nodding and thinking, pssh, a highly covetable one at that!)
My sister Beth came over Friday night to help me prep. When I pictured the scene in my head, she was watching the latest Lifetime trainwreck from the living room, I was contentedly chopping veggies from the kitchen, and we’re sharing a bottle of wine while discussing who greenlit Lindsay Lohan to play Elizabeth Taylor (b/c seriously? They should be fired).
In actuality, Beth and I were both in the kitchen, trying to hear the TV over the blender that I decided could serve as a food processor, chopping veggies for apps on Saturday, and simultaneously realizing that we didn’t need to hear every word of Liz and Dick to know that it was an absolute disaster. And I don’t mean in that awesomely bad way that Lifetime moves are; I mean it was a dismal, hands-down FAIL. The only entertaining part was looking up every so often and seeing what kind of wig Lindsay had on.
It was a good thing the movie didn’t hold my interest b/c I needed all my attention focused on the fact that no matter how long a recipe says it will take, my version of it is three times as long. The dessert I wanted to make (“easy” chocolate cheesecake squares; I don’t know what’s “easy” about sticking your hand down a blender to scrape crumbled wafers from the blade) had a prep time of 15 minutes. The chef who created that recipe was obviously high; I couldn’t even rummage through my fridge to find all the ingredients in 15 minutes (eureka moment: next time I put away my groceries, I’m going to have a system).
All our hard work was worth it when B’s mom dished compliment after compliment Saturday afternoon. I’m very much motivated by recognition, so the “mmm’s” and contented chewing was all the appreciation I needed. That and the fact that B did the dishes afterwards.
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