Hot Dish

Last night I stole a spot at the table at the home of the Carlson family for a hot dish gathering. Christopher cooked up a rockin’ bean dish that included a sauce made of…ah, buckets. I can’t recall. It was complex, like a polyjuice potion in Harry Potter. (Used first in Chamber of Secrets, hey.) The bean sauce contained coffee, some sort of liquor, brown sugar, garlic, and like 14 other ingredients. Really good stuff. And it was topped with five or six slices of bacon, which created an entertaining exchange of everyone denying they wanted bacon when it was spooned out. This was really our way of saying “Yes, I want that bacon, but taking a slice when there is so little would make me feel shamefully greedy. As such, I’ll deny the bacon humbly in hope that you’ll recognize it is actually a polite if not desperate way of saying, ‘Give me that goddamn bacon, bub.’” I got a slice. Awesome.

I wish I’d taken time to gauge more of the eats’ precise ingredients. Honestly, I ate too quickly. (Sarah, you claim the spinach salad was soggy, but I thought it was quite good, thanks. Although, maybe you’re going to say that was supposed to be iceberg lettuce, in which case it must have been soggy!) In layman’s terms, it was really good grub. I ate without grace. And I laughed too much for a guest, but the family chatter cracked me up. Hey, Carlsons: I love you bunches.

(Patti: Please don’t test your “I can fly” theory. I worry about you now. And Mips: the banana cream pie that I took home didn’t survive the night. I ate it as soon as I walked through the door. In my defense, I did use a fork, though that was only after I caught myself piggishly reaching a hand into the bag in which I’d transported that divine wedge. Screw America. God bless the BCP!)

Tomorrow I think I’ll post a thing about the Carlson girls’ contest of strength and fight choreography. It was like a violent version of patty cake.
-cK