The Recipe.




photo courtesy allrecipes.com

 

Hub's family came to our house for Thanksgiving this year.

Since his Mother left us for the Land of Disney

we had no other choice.

What were we to do?

It was my idea really.

But Hubs thought it sounded grand.

So, phone calls were made and invitations extended.

Let the planning begin.  

I am not a cook.

But every once in awhile I aspire to be one.

Wanting to release the inner chef within me

I searched the Pioneer Woman's blog for the perfect recipe.

(She's practicly my best friend and loves to share all of

her tried and true recipes with me.  Cause she loves me.)

Anywhoo..

That's where I came across The Recipe for

Cranberry Pomegranate Sauce.

It was perfect.

Fresh cranberries, pomegranate juice, sugar.

What could be simpler?

So I trought off to the store with my little

Thanksgiving Feast list in hand and Hubs in tow.

As I'm searching for the necessary ingredients

the following conversation takes place

(or at least something like it).

Hubs says, "Why are you making that?  You don't even like cranberry sauce."

"Yeah, I know, but other people do.  And with this great recipe I may change my mind."

(He was seriously interfering with my inner Julia Child.)

"Yeah well that pomegranate juice better be worth it costing that much for that little."

Yeah. Yeah. 

Fast forward to Thanksgiving morning.

2 chocolate pies, a pecan pie, a Robert Redford, and a load of peeled potatoes later

 I begin to prepare The Recipe.

I wash the cranberries, as instructed.  Leave them in a pan of water,

add the 3/4 cup of sugar and poor in the pomegranate ju...

when I realize, a little too late, that

The Recipe didn't call for water. 

Every bit of the pomegranate juice was now diluted.

Gulp.

I was sick. I just ruined The Recipe.

 I looked around for Hubs. 

He was no where to be found.

Did a happy dance.

Then drained off most

of the fluid and proceded on. 

And guess what?  No one ate any of it. 

Not one bite.

I didn't even take it out of the fridge.

I'm not telling Hubs.  He hasn't even noticed it yet.

It's for his own good really. 

He would never recover.

I mean who messes up Cranberry sauce?

Next year I'm gonna volunteer to make the stuffing.

What could be easier?  Some bread.  Some spices.

Easy peasy.