There were exactly approximately two rules in my house growing up. (Okay, maybe three if you count the ban on play-doh. But that was more of a lifestyle choice rather than a “rule”. The result of which is that I currently have a huge box of play-doh. Sitting on my bookshelf. At 23 years old. Thanks mom.)
Look, if anyone asks, I am a goddess in the kitchen.
I never make mistakes.
Everything always turns out beautifully.
And sure, I may lick my share of spatulas. And stick my fingers into just about everything I create. And double dip. But who doesn’t?
(And never have I ever given anyone Salmonella. Which, for those of you who care is a gram negative, lactose negative bacteria that causes gastroenteritis, turns black on a test for hydrogen sulfide, and causes more of an inflammatory type of diarrhea than osmotic or malabsorptive or secretory. Yes. I said it. Diarrhea. We are in the middle of the GI module. If I have to hear about diarrhea at 8AM every day then so do you. Amen.)
And somehow, here we are. Right smack dab in the middle of another holiday season.
Okay, maybe we are not in the middle yet. But as you walk through the streets in your neighborhood. Or up and down the aisles of a lecture hall (for those of us who have no time to actually see daylight or inhale fresh air).
You can’t help but hear the buzz. Or smell it in the air.
Or.
Maybe that’s just the chili.
My father occasionally refers to my adoration of all things good and wholesome as if it were a drug seeking behavior.
“Do you have to be so obsessed?” he’ll hiss when I add a pound full of some green vegetable to what would otherwise be “a perfectly good pasta dish”.
It could be worse. I tell him. I could be snorting it.
If ever you thought that pie season was over as soon as that last bough of mistletoe made it’s way into the garbage disposal. (Taking with it any chance that I am going to be kissed this holiday season. Santa, didn’t you get my list?)
Well, you may be right.
But my parents have yet to take down their Christmas tree. Their halls are still decked. They’ve still got Frank Sinatra’s Christmas Album playing. On repeat. Loudly.
What vegetable activates your gag reflex?
I know you have one. We all have one. (Unless of course, you’re one of those people who doesn’t have a gag reflex. In which case…food blogging? Really? Don’t you think there are bigger and better things you could be doing with this “talent” of yours?)
Welcome to Eats Well With Others, where we take a vegetable-and-cupcake laden approach to life (always with a bit of laughter on the side)!
