Yes, more culinary firsts...it's a sad state of affairs to see me in the kitchen most of the time. What's worse is, J's kitchen skills make me look fabulous.
We decided to spend the night at J's grandmother's house the other night since we spend most of my off days out there anyway, stay the night save gas on driving back and forth, you get the idea. So, we woke up and his grandmother had already left to go to a church thing. We were looking for breakfast...J looked at me with this sad sad face, bread in one hand, block of cheddar in the other, "Do you know how to make grilled cheese?" Well, surely this can't be that difficult, "Sure, I can figure it out, start slicing cheese".
I started pulling bread out of the bag to butter and noticed the bread had a use by date of May 31st. Yeah, the crusts were pretty hard and parts were stale, no mold though. J deemed it safe to eat, but I decided to pull the stale crusts off of the slices for myself.
A few moments later, I look over to see chunks of cheese, not slices. "Do you know if your grandmother has a cheese wire?" My darling husband says, "I don't think she would, that's too high-tech" I nearly laughed in his face. I explained to him that a cheese wire looks like football uprights with a sharp wire between them, used to cut cheese, and makes thin slices...and that it was in fact pretty old school.
Well, his turn to laugh came around. I plopped a
slice of bread onto the plate after removing the stale parts, J asked me, "Are you really going to make a grilled cheese out of Alaska?!"
 |
| not sure I see Alaska... |
J knows my fabulous ability to burn most anything I touch in the kitchen, but still left me to it to make his sandwich. Put the heat on a lower setting, "It's going to take you 5 years to make that on that low of heat" J says. Well, ok, I was trying not to burn your bread before your cheese melts, but here goes! Turned it up to medium, flip,
perfect. And, I can tell that the cheese is starting to melt. I mean, pure grilled cheese perfection. Give it just long enough to toast the other side...placed it on his plate, cut it in half. I. Am. Good. Proud of myself, I serve my husband his beautiful grilled cheese. I watch him, he's impressed. Takes a bite, he's still impressed. Go me! Whoot!
My sandwich next. I take the chunks of cheese, place them on Alaska up there, make a sandwich and place it in the pan. Apparently, his stale crust was his sandwich's saving grace with me at the helm. I burnt the mess out of Alaska. Alaska was scorched, black. I managed to make the other side not too burnt, perfect actually. But, needless to say, I pouted a little when I showed J my grilled cheese.
Other than grilled cheese, we had a
very lazy nice and relaxing day. It stormed all day, so I wasn't able to get in the pool...sadface. I made chicken nugget spaghetti, one culinary delight I can make and I have never had anyone dislike. Everyone loves it. Thank you mother for teaching me that one. It sounds horrible, but it's really easy and delish!
