Last night, to celebrate prying himself out from under a torturous and seemingly endless project after several months hard labor, I decided to make HLB a special meal.
I enjoy introducing him to new foods. It lets me be a know-it-all showoff --a role I was born to play-- with the added bonus of being able to lie my head off to excuse any potential mistakes.
"What's that my love? Your bánh mì has a shoelace in it? Uh, that means you win! You get the secret prize! What's the secret prize? It's a secret! Hold on I need to go the store for a reason absolutely unrelated to the subject at hand."
With that in mind, and knowing his favorite foods are bread, pasta and potatoes, I introduced him to the sexy Slavic carb-on-carb action known as pierogi.
|The KAF peirogi recipe is fantastic|
They were, understandably, a huge hit and I know from now on he'll wax eloquently about the first time he had pierogi just the way he does about the first time I offered him a bowl of shrimp and grits, recalling my gingham hostess apron and the raw grits sifting through my fingers into the bubbling pot below.
Being in Mexico makes me nostalgic for surprising foods.
I miss the chalky Necco wafers of my childhood, standing smart in their waxed paper tube. I miss the unappetizing gelatinous bricks of King Ranch chicken the old ladies served once a month at my newspaper that I ate because it was their specialty and I felt bad for accidentally making the oldest one --a firecracker of at least 90-- quit.
I miss those atomic green glacé cherries my grandmother put in her fruitcake cookies even though my tongue swelled up each time I snuck one from the mix. My grandfather asked for those cookies --a Christmas staple-- before he died, but my grandmother didn't make them. Now guilt means she'll never bake them again.
Nostalgia plays tricks on us.
Absence, I suppose, makes more than one internal organ grow fonder.
Do you have odd nostalgia foods? Put it in the comments and lets reminisce together.