Big City Girl endured her wisdom-teeth extraction like a trooper. The only part of the whole ordeal that reduced her to tears was when she fell asleep on the ice pack. But now she's back at work in the big city and finally enjoying some real food--which she assures me she is cutting in to small pieces.
Before she and Tech Guy left on Sunday, there was a Scrabble-off with Gadget Dad.
No, GD wasn't snoozing, although he has been known to nap while playing Scrabble with me. He was contemplating his assortment of letters.....
---which was probably better than TG's assortment.
She works in an office with a great bunch of techie-types, and once a week one of the guys, a former chef, prepares a gourmet lunch for all of his workmates. Sometimes BCG assists. Sometimes she even cooks in her own apartment. And once she even called me for some recipe advice. She was baking chicken pieces and didn't have a meat thermometer.
He told me later he lost to the two of them, but I know that couldn't be true without some pretty wimpy Scrabble playing on his part. I never get involved in these contests. I'm better off, and less anxiety-ridden, just being the photographer.
BCG (aka Stefanie) was quite happy with my embroidered gift--a special apron.
She works in an office with a great bunch of techie-types, and once a week one of the guys, a former chef, prepares a gourmet lunch for all of his workmates. Sometimes BCG assists. Sometimes she even cooks in her own apartment. And once she even called me for some recipe advice. She was baking chicken pieces and didn't have a meat thermometer."You don't need one unless you're baking a whole chicken," I told her. "Just cut into the biggest piece and see if there's any pink. If there is, put it back in the oven for a few." I'm pretty sure that's how they do it at those big city five-star restaurants.
Which reminds me of a story. Before Mr. Gadget retired, we would occasionally be invited to big fancy business outings in NYC. These would usually involve dinner and a Broadway play. One of those dinners was at a 5-star restaurant. I won't mention the name. It was a long time ago. I ordered an entree with chicken pieces in a sauce, and every single bite was grisly and inedible.
I've told this story a few times, and no one ever believes me because of the 5 stars. Mr. Gadget believed me though, and thought I should have sent my plate back to the kitchen. I didn't for fear of embarrassing our host. Plus, I had plenty of room for the 5-star dessert--which I'm happy to report was gristle-free.
1 comment:
So cute that Chefanie!
Post a Comment