Corn looking good.
First batch, okay the story is: Maria sent him the grocery list by text, but also the recipe by email.
He never read the recipe.
I have never made scalloped corn, but am aware of how it is done, that the butter has to be melted, the roux, the milk stirred in.
He cooks all the time, and he's a good cook. I don't worry or supervise.
But today, when I went through the kitchen and saw the flour on top of the pile of ingredients, I thought, "That's not right."
No it wasn't.
Jay's response, "Well, shit."
We threw it all out and began again, following the recipe, sautéing the onions and green pepper in butter, stirring in the flour and milk, adding the eggs late.
As we started over, I called my parents to say hi, and when she asked how things were going, I told her, "Bad. Very bad."
As she heard the story, she laughed, deep hearty laughing I haven't heard in a long time.
Thanks, Jay. Glad to amuse.
This weird Thanksgiving, help us all.
Dan dropped off a handmade French Silk pie, looking forward to tasting that tomorrow.
In our distant and strange Thanksgiving, the love is unchanged.
Forever.
Happy Thanksgiving, Love, Val
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