I made Eggs Benedict last night for supper. I was going to do that thing that serious cooks do--make my own hollandaise sauce from scratch. I was going to be noble, and wipe the sweat from my brow as I whisked and stirred and poached while Bud slowly faded away on the couch from hunger. But no. As I was taking a short break at work, a lovely woman I work with asked what I was making for supper. I told her my plan, and she said, "Oh, I never make hollandaise sauce from scratch. I buy the Knorr dry mix. It tastes great!"
Oh. Trot trot over to the grocery store. Pick up the Knorr Hollandaise Sauce packet. Easy-peasy. I felt a bit guilty, but knew Bud could care less where it came from. Needless to say, my EB turned out fabulous, even if the poached egg pot looked like some kind of alien goo floating in water. A squeeze of lemon juice into the sauce before I spooned it over the eggs, and--like magic--Eggs Benedict! And my God, that sauce tasted awesome! So much so, that I spooned about ten giant scoops onto my eggs, canadian bacon, and english muffin. I always ask for extra at a restaurant. It's the best part of the whole dish!
So thanks to my co-worker, I did not spend endless amounts of time trying to devise clarified butter, or stir things just right. Dump, stir, thicken, serve.
Bud loved it--I picked my jaw off the floor when he said "I don't think I've ever had this before." What?! It's only my favorite breakfast (followed a close second by breakfast burritos smothered in green chile sauce). Where has this man been? I have extra sauce in the fridge. I don't know if it survived the night. I'm going to make more EB tonight and have a happy stomach! Unless the sauce is bad, in which case I will have a sick stomach and a very long night in the loo. Oh--gee--another excuse to put off my word count tonight. :P If my NaNoWriMo widget isn't higher than 8000 words by tomorrow morning, then you know what happened...
If you're in a relationship, or have ever been in one, do you have those moments where what is said is so ridiculous, that you can only laugh hysterically? Well, here's mine. Yesterday, I was talking to Bud on the phone. He said "What's that whistling noise?" and I said, "It's my nostril. My nose is dry." What followed was bellyaching laughter on both ends of the phone. Now I'm a Mom with a whistling nostril. I can bet you I'll be reminded of that for many years to come.
