As a girl who grew up having a stay-at-home mother always cooking or cleaning something, there is a lot of pressure on me as a new wife to know what to do with things like beef bullion and chicken carcasses. I am supposed to know if .88 cents per pound is good for grapes and how long birthday cake will stay fresh in the fridge. But, alas, I hardly knew much about any of these things when I returned from my honeymoon. I half expected mom to slip a manual to me as I left the wedding reception or at least to find it on my doorstep when I got home. (Maybe my next-door pot-head, I mean neighbor took it).
But I am learning that it's all about time. It's not like mom had anyone to teach her these things--that I know of. So it just took her a few years to learn about prices and the like. So the point of all of this introduction is to say, I learned something. When we returned from our honeymoon my caring sister, Leah had bought us plenty of groceries to last us a while and included in her grocery list was a 5-lb. bag of potatoes. Now, these scared me, quite honestly. The only thing I know how to make from a raw potatoe is mashed. But I already have instant mashed potatoes in the fridge. So for the past (counting in my head...) 9 weeks these potatoes have layed dormant in the crisper where she put them. I was imagining they had grown moldy and soft in strange places so I was not only put off by the pressure but by the regret of having not performed any starchy miracle with them.
But it's Sunday and every good Marsh girl knows that there's one thing that happens on Sunday, and one thing that doesn't. The thing that does--nap. The thing that doesn't--dinner. This second half of the concept I have yet to explain to Kyle, so he somehow forces me to make dinner every Sunday. But since the beginning of Marshdom, no Marsh man or woman has eaten a real dinner on a Sunday. It's always cereal or the ever-famous wings and fries. (A variation of which I was hoping to replicate tonight). But darn, there were no french fries in the freezer. So I took out the potatoes and inspected them thorougly. No smell, no mushy parts or mold. Wow! These potatoes waited for me! After thanking each one individually I looked up a homefries recipe online and found that they're made the same way I make frozen homefies. Fry 'em up! So as they sizzle in the pan, the chicken fingers bake in the oven, and Kyle finishes our Sunday nap, I am proud to stand in my kitchen blogging about this small triumph.
And oh yeah, in case you are confused like I was, I happen to know that .88 cents/lb for grapes is an excellent price and you should take advantage.