Saturday, March 29, 2008
McArthur Park is Melting
Jon's brother and family are coming for dinner tonight. We haven't seen them in quite a while. They live in Chicago.
"I don't think that I can take it, cause it took so long to make it-"
eek, got going on that torte I've made about five times. But on the back of the box it showed a way to make it extra French. In my addled way, I thought "Yes, More French. It's Alexandra's 16th birthday, and they go to France a lot."
Dum dee dum, I know what I'm doing, (accent dumb.) it came out of the mixing bowl tasting great on the spoon but looking like a French beauty product, stiff and slabby. Then I noticed the measuring cup of milk sitting quietly off at the side, that hadn't joined the French batter party. Had to toss all the batter, and those backyard chicken eggs, I mean oeufs, are what made it so gloriously yellow.
Off to Albertson's, where every store checker is mentally ill, (not to mention the customers.) Back home, trying not to hyperventilate, made the whole thing a la France again. It looks a bit teetery, but as long as it doesn't land on the floor we'll be all right.
Rest of menu:
Fried Chicken (the best thing I cook)
Black eyed pea dish (tomatoes, onions, green pepper, celery)
Corn dish (sauteed with red pepper and spicy peppers and onions)
Cole Slaw (trying another recipe, never satisfied with what I get.
When Jon opened the grill to wipe it down a male Black Widow jumped out. We're having troubles with them again this year.