I woke up pheeling like a million bucks! I even remembered to bring breakfast to work with me.
(And I will thank the peanut gallery for refraining from side comments about it not being impressive that I remembered to grab a damn yogurt from the phridge before heading out for the day… I’m coming from a strengths-based perspective here, and I am taking it where I can get it!)
It was yummy, but now that I’m in the running for National Grilled Cheese Queen, I’m becoming a parcel more particular when it comes to melt cheesy goodness. This was not the best I’ve had this month nor was it the worst.
Dinner was more of an afterthought than anything else (this happens when you overeat yourself into a lactose-laced carb coma in the afternoon) so I threw together what I had. Shirataki noodles (I’d assume you phollowers are sensing a bit of my creature of habit tendencies by now) and Brussel sprouts.
The noodles were solid- tasty as always. The sprouts not so much. Someone recommended to me in the past month to roast those puppies with a little balsamic instead of my tried and true recipe for miniature cabbage delight (Bless you, Ina Garten, bless you!) and so I did.
Let it be said- if it ain’t broke, don’t phix it.
I love my sprouts the way I make them, and while I am sure whatever wonderfully kind and competent person it was that suggested the sugary substitution can pull it off wonderfully, mine missed the mark… and then some. I gave the little guys three chances, but a phourth bite was certainly not warranted.
The trash got to enjoy the rest. Oscar would have been pleased.