I ate Professor Batty's fat free cheese. Here's what happened.

I have never made a Commandments of Living Deliciously, but if I did, "Never Eat Fat Free Cheese" would be high on that list, perhaps number seven or so, right after, six, "Avoid Light Beer," but before eight, "Always Accept Pie From Women Over Fifty." So when Professor Batty came to visit all the way from Flippist World Headquarters, and he gave me this:

I didn't quite know what to say.

"It's good on everything!" He declared. "Eggs, leftovers, everything!"

"Well," I replied, "we have eggs and leftovers all the time, so that's great!" 

I said this because, although "Never Eat Fat Free Cheese" is number seven of my Commandments of Living Deliciously, number three is, "Always Graciously Accept Gifts, No Matter How Weird."

So the cheese was set aside. And ignored. And thought about. And ignored...

I had a conundrum on my hands. A real catch twenty-two, because while number seven demands that I avoid fat free cheeses, number eighteen states not to throw out expensive foods. That cheese container is much enlarged for the photo, and yet the lofty Professor paid a whole $6.99 for it! And he had a reason. The Professor read about this cheese in a book... And I'm not even going to get into my rules about things in books!

So, I had to eat the cheese.

Today for breakfast, I made an egg omelette with leftovers. The cheese beckoned. It said, "Eat me, Shoshanah! Eat me!"

And so I suggested I would put a little on my omelette. Not on BAH's omelette, just on mine. I opened it, and it was green. Green! Well, hopefully it won't kill me. I'll just put it on my omelette, give it a chance. BAH asked if today's omelette might be good with ketchup, and I said yes, probably, but I'll just try mine first, and then, and then, and then...

O.M.G. 

At first, it seemed like a bit of saltiness, a lot like mozzarella. But it had nuances of other things, like garlic roasted and fresh field of daisies, like morning rain, like wild mushrooms and... Oh. My. Gosh.

I should really take a picture of this and blog about it, I thought. 

And I ate some more. One more bite. 

I should really take a picture of this and blog about it, I thought. 

And I ate some more. One more bite. 

I should really take a picture of this and blog about it, I thought. 

And I ate some more. One more bite. 

And on and on. I really meant to take a picture. It was just so tasty! So very, very tasty. And what is the point of living deliciously, if one must stop to document living deliciously? I finally did get one picture, though:

I would like to thank Professor Batty for giving me that cheese.

The "Perfect" Bacon Bowl Maker

"Perfect Bacon bowl Everything tastes Better in a BACON BOWL" I thought this would be good to put salads in- the "perfect" lunch! 

 I followed the instructions to the letter... Twice. 

"Perfect!" For three tiny tomatoes, if you balance them carefully. 

Although, it is the "perfect" way to cook bacon, as long as you aren't hung up on the "bowl" part.

Baby's First Insecurity About A Pastry Item

Little Z likes to sometimes make a smaller version of what I'm making. I'll make a pizza, she'll make a mini pizza. So, when I saw a tiny little pie pan at a thrift store a few days ago, I bought it for her.

Tonight, I made a chicken pot pie. Little Z made a small strawberry pie in the tiny pie pan. (She ate a bunch of the raw pastry dough- so much that I had to make more for us.)

It was still an hour until BAH was due to come home. Little Z looked rather cautiously at our pies.

"Daddy like my pie?" she asked.

"Daddy will like your pie," I assured her.

"Daddy like my pie?" she asked again, emphasis on the my.

"Daddy isn't a very picky eater. I think he'll like your pie. Who wouldn't like a strawberry pie?" The filling was strawberries with honey.

So, BAH got home and ate. Little Z wanted him to eat her pie first, but since it was a sweet thing, he explained the tradition of eating sweets last. When he finally ate it, of course he liked her pie! How could he not? She even made whipped topping (with my help, of course- everything with a lot of help!) The whipped topping was a little over whipped, so that it was actually closer to butter. Mmmmm.

I think she was relieved when he asked her for seconds- but, of course, she said "No" initially, because she's two and a half, and it was her pie. He did manage to persuade her eventually to let him have a second piece of strawberry pie.