Thing 1
The absolute best grilled cheese I have ever had is from Kelly's Roast Beef on Revere Beach. It's something about the combination of the gooey-cheesiness and the sourdough bread and whatever form of butter or oil they use for cooking it, but it's FANTASTIC. I love it. So when Friday rolled around and we were trying to determine what to do for girl's night out when 1/3 of our party couldn't make it and it was kind of rainy and gross to be walking all over downtown Boston, my only thought was, "why don't we get Kelly's and then go back to my apartment and watch movies there?" The brilliance of this plan was immediately acknowledged and off we went. While on the way, my comrade in arms had a suggestion of her own. "Why don't we bake stuff?" Obviously, a detour was made to the grocery store, which brings me to
Thing 2
We decided that not only would we bake, but we would have a dessert buffet. Which ended up really just being brownies and cookies, but they were Ghiradelli double chocolate brownies, and sugar cookies in cute shapes with frosting and sprinkles, so I think we get points for extra effort. When making cookies into cute shapes, there's always a bit leftover that won't fit perfectly into a cookie cutter so you end up with random leftover dough. Now, we are not ones to let that stop us, so T made a little mound of cookie to put on the last sheet in the oven, and there was a little crumb leftover which we set right on top. Like a belly button or something. It came out looking a little freaky, and when time came for frosting, we did not do our part to hide the freaky:
It's blurry but you can still see the belly button in the middle.
As we have learned, I am not so adept at removing things from the oven. In fact, you could say it's my weak trait (you know, the only one I have, ha). Anyway, one or two of the cookies had mishaps going from the oven to my "cooling rack" (aka the top of a small cabinet I cleaned off because I have negative counter space and is now completely warped because I put hot cookies on fakey-plastic-wood). While frosting said cookies, something along the lines of the following conversation took place:
Me: Man, some of these cookies got busted. I think I'm going to try and frost them anyway
T: They'll probably just break when someone picks them up
Me: You're right! Ha! I'll frost this and then we'll mix them all up and someone will pick this one up and it will break, and they will be a sucker! (evil laughter)
Cut to this:
me picking up a cookie when it was finally time to taste test (after not mixing them up at all) and it falling apart in my hands:
Me: Oh, man! I got the broken one!
T: hahahahaha, you didn't even mix them up! You knew which one it was!
Me: Yea, that was karma teaching me a lesson
Thing 4
We made 3 shapes of cookies (not counting the belly button one): hearts, butterflies and flowers. I have tried to pretty much only eat the butterfly ones. I think they taste better. Followed by the hearts, and the flowers are a distant third. This is like when I was little and I was convinced that the green M&Ms tasted the best.
Thing 5 (aka the gross one)
Monday evening I met up with some friends from the mitten who were in town for dinner. It had been a long time since either of them had been to Boston (I'm not even sure if they've both been here before or not) and I thought it would be nice for us to go to a seafood restaurant because fish in Boston is definitely fresher and more interesting than fish in Michigan. Anyway, we went to a rather famous restaurant, of which there are several in the Boston area. We had an enjoyable dinner, it was lovely to catch up. However, the first thing that sort of threw me was that I ordered salmon and the waitress asked me how I wanted it cooked. Granted, I don't order a lot of salmon in general, but I don't think I've ever heard anyone ask me how I wanted it cooked. I thought they pretty much only did that with cow products. I just looked unsure and she said that if there was no specification they cooked it medium rare. I said, "yea, whatever, that's fine" but I sort of regretted my choice, and was starting to think I should have just ordered chicken. When it came, it was perfectly tasty, and I ate it. But then I got home. And right back up came the fish (and the spinach that came with it). One thing you need to know about me: Aside from a few alcohol-induced situations (sorry, Mom) I haven't thrown up since I was about 13 years old. Frankly, it scares the crap out of me. But there I was, Monday night, curled up on the bathroom floor. Yesterday I was afraid to eat anything aside from Saltine crackers and 7up until I got home from work for fear of a relapse. Today I'm pretty much fine, but the chances of me eating fish or spinach for the foreseeable future are slim to none. No good.
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