Today started as a bit of a mess. That happens when I sleep through my alarm, seeing as how I move just above glacial in the morning. Even after I got the kids to their schools with their haphazardly thrown-together lunches, I was still operating in more of a lopsided out-of-sorts version of myself. I knew what the menu said would happen for dinner tonight so I got out my crockpot and started throwing the ingredients into it. And then, just as I was about to put the lid on the whole thing, I sniffed.
It isn’t that I smelled anything wrong. But I didn’t smell anything right.
Last night was a good kitchen night for me. I made kale last night and it was delicious. The kind of delicious where when Mister Soandso said I could have the rest in the bowl, I barely contained my desire to lick the bowl and kiss his face. If someone not that many years ago would have told me I’d adore kale like it was something sinful and not healthy, well, I would have speed dialed the looney bin. So what changed? Surely not me, right?
Well, the mysteries of the thing changed.
When I posted last Friday about making ribs, I hadn’t planned on a follow-up post about food. After all, I spent Saturday out with the fabulous Mister Soandso and I promised some folks photos of the costumes we wore to a party. But as you’ve probably figured out, the key word to understanding me is “random” and so I’m rolling with an observation that came to me this morning.
I can’t think of a time in my life not attached to either preparing or consuming a meal or food item. Yep. You read that right. Even my babies came to me with stories of food and meals. (Oh, a different type of food preparation!) Mister Soandso and I still giggle over how many lattes he brought me in hospital rooms that sat on that wheeled tray-tables, cooling until too tepid to drink.
I suppose I should apologize for such a silly little attempt at a pun. What can I say, it’s late. (Yes, I know. I’m actually writing this Thursday night. Shocking, indeed.)
But back to ribs and Adam. Or, more to the point, Adam and ribs.
I don’t know Adam, well the famously Biblical one at least. But I do know ribs. I haven’t always known ribs but since marrying Mister Soandso I’ve learned a few things about all things ribby.
To me, Creme Brûlée is a grown-up dessert. Something that French and lovely on my tongue simply screams grown-up. At least to my way of hearing. Of course, there are times when the situation calls for warm chocolate chip cookies or a pint of ice cream, but since my introduction to brûlée, my palette changed.