And how was your Easter? Mine was good. I think I ate my weight in those damn Cadbury Caramel Eggs, but that is beside the point. (Not the full-sized eggs. The mini ones. Where you eat one and think THAT WAS SO TINY IT DIDN’T EVEN COUNT. And then proceed to eat fourteen more.)
The nephews dyed Easter eggs. I bribed them but they still wouldn’t write insults on the eggs, unfortunately. My mom and I made a bunny cake. Pardon the bad frosting job. I can bake a cake. Decorating is a whole other disaster.
The real event of Easter this year was the fondue. I’ve never made it, never eaten it. I busted out the Joy of Cooking, grated more cheese than I’ve ever seen in my life, and got to it.
Here’s where everything started to go south. Why has no one ever told me that Gruyere smells like feet? (I, to my knowledge, have never eaten it before. My life is sheltered.) It smells like feet. It also tastes like feet. ‘Gruyere smells like feet’ is a popular Google search, so I’m not the only one that gets foot vibes from that cheese.
It all went downhill from there. My husband’s suggestion was to find a recipe for white trash fondue; maybe we would like that better. Seeing as what I made tasted like wine-soaked feet, I have to agree.
Anyone that loves fondue made with Swiss cheeses is dying right now of outrage.
Anyway. The crisis was averted (it shames my home-cooking soul, but thank Moses for Velveeta) and the rest of the meal went swimmingly.
Someday I’ll follow that rule about not cooking something for the first time ever on a holiday. But yesterday was not that day.
See you later!