It was a Friday night and I planned to make a simple American dinner at home. One of Brian's (and my kids') favorites: hotdogs and potato salad. Easy. But this is where the blog post comes in. Nothing catastrophic happened to mess with my dinner plans. It was just the little things, the unexpected but not "out of nowhere", the disruptive annoyances (or adventures...depending on how you look at it!) that made this dinner not so simple.
Friday morning: My girls and I walk to the store that has the hotdogs we all like. It's called "Village". They have the good cheese and scotch tape. It's pretty much the go-to place.
Anyways, despite the plentiful hotdog inventory, Village does not carry hotdog buns. Not a one. Basha (the other store down the road that sometimes carries the good pickles) is out as well. So, hotdogs, no buns. It's ok. I'm sure I can make a modified pigs in a blanket situation.
Friday lunchtime: I look online to figure out the right dough for pigs in a blanket. I get depressed at the amount of crescent roll recipes ("it's just so easy!") due to the lack of said crescent rolls in this country. Then I get a tinge angry ("this is not a recipe! crescent rolls and hotdogs...why are people giving this stars?"). Then I find some down-home mom that has justified pigs in a blanket "homemade" is somehow healthy for her growing kids. Whatever. I have the dough recipe.
Friday afternoon: I wash, cut and boil the potatoes. Twenty minutes later I check the stove and the flame is gone. Gasp! The gas went out. We have a propane tank that lasts usually 6-8 weeks and then with no warning, poof...gas is out. No more cooking.
I call the "gas guy"...I honestly don't know his name. "Gas guy" is how he's listed in my phone.
He is "out of station" (out of town) and won't return until tomorrow. Fortunately, the potatoes are cooked and I can make the potato salad. And I have a loving husband who has a restaurant up his sleeve he wants to take us to. He's not willing to eat starch with a side of starch for dinner....though I might be.
Friday evening: The restaurant, Connies, is a weird mix of plaid table clothes, diner feel and Bob Marley music. They don't have Coke. We order steaks (pretty good here!) and my kids dance to "We're Jammin'" in front of a random full length mirror they have set up.
Saturday: Make the pigs in a blanket. Serve up the potato salad and green beans (cut, destringed, frozen 3 days before!). Brian asks if there is coleslaw. I shoot him an angry look. He wisely compliments the potato salad.
And we live to eat another dinner. Simple, American dinner.
Friday morning: My girls and I walk to the store that has the hotdogs we all like. It's called "Village". They have the good cheese and scotch tape. It's pretty much the go-to place.
Anyways, despite the plentiful hotdog inventory, Village does not carry hotdog buns. Not a one. Basha (the other store down the road that sometimes carries the good pickles) is out as well. So, hotdogs, no buns. It's ok. I'm sure I can make a modified pigs in a blanket situation.
Friday lunchtime: I look online to figure out the right dough for pigs in a blanket. I get depressed at the amount of crescent roll recipes ("it's just so easy!") due to the lack of said crescent rolls in this country. Then I get a tinge angry ("this is not a recipe! crescent rolls and hotdogs...why are people giving this stars?"). Then I find some down-home mom that has justified pigs in a blanket "homemade" is somehow healthy for her growing kids. Whatever. I have the dough recipe.Friday afternoon: I wash, cut and boil the potatoes. Twenty minutes later I check the stove and the flame is gone. Gasp! The gas went out. We have a propane tank that lasts usually 6-8 weeks and then with no warning, poof...gas is out. No more cooking.
I call the "gas guy"...I honestly don't know his name. "Gas guy" is how he's listed in my phone.
He is "out of station" (out of town) and won't return until tomorrow. Fortunately, the potatoes are cooked and I can make the potato salad. And I have a loving husband who has a restaurant up his sleeve he wants to take us to. He's not willing to eat starch with a side of starch for dinner....though I might be.
Friday evening: The restaurant, Connies, is a weird mix of plaid table clothes, diner feel and Bob Marley music. They don't have Coke. We order steaks (pretty good here!) and my kids dance to "We're Jammin'" in front of a random full length mirror they have set up.
Saturday: Make the pigs in a blanket. Serve up the potato salad and green beans (cut, destringed, frozen 3 days before!). Brian asks if there is coleslaw. I shoot him an angry look. He wisely compliments the potato salad.
And we live to eat another dinner. Simple, American dinner.
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