Merry Christmas!

I have no new posts.  It has been that crazy and I have been that unmotivated.  So I thought I would unearth the Christmas story from last year, which still has the power to crack me up!  D is making Cioppino again this year, but I have great hopes that I will not be getting 20 phone calls before I get home.  Sadly, I have no hopes that he’ll have me literally in laughing in tears either.  He already knows that mussels are ALIVE  now.  If you’ve never read this, enjoy.  If you’re read it before, read it again anyway!

***

When ever DH decides to cook, I know I’m facing a ton of questions and phone calls.  And I know that there is sure to be a laugh-out-loud hilarious tidbit for me to blog about.  DH has not failed me today in his first attempt ever to cook the Christmas Eve dinner.

I usually try to follow the Italian tradition of cooking seven seafood for Christmas Eve.  In the last few years, filling the seven requirement got a whole lot easier with a Cioppino recipe from a friend.  It is actually a Rachel Ray recipe and amazingly simple to make for something so good.

After my lack of enthusiasm regarding Thanksgiving cooking, I decided that I was not hosting nor cooking the Christmas Eve meal.  DH was initially OK with that, but about a week ago, he decided that he wanted to host and he was going to cook the meal.  I thought about it and I decided that he would be able to handle the cioppino recipe.  After all, there’s very little prep work involved.  I should have known better!

Last night he laid out all the non-perishables.  As he read through the ingredients, he would look through the pantry, hold out the item to me to confirm that he had the right one.  So, picture him holding up a jar with “Crushed Red Pepper” written on it, asking me, “Is this Crushed Red Pepper?” and repeat this about ten times with other items.  By the end of the night, the counter next to the stove had all the ingredients he needed including the pot he was cooking with. 

I was surprised that he didn’t peel the garlic and chop up the celery.  As it is, I kept getting increasingly panicked sounding phone calls this morning.  “Is the Alaskan Cod OK for cod?”  “What does mussels look like?”  “The mussels don’t have beards.  Is that OK?”  ?”  “What does it mean to chop the celery?” “What do I do with the mussels??

I calmly explained to him that he needed to discard any opened or broken mussels, scrub the rest with a hard brush and soak them in cold water.  Another phone call, “I put them in the fridge and some of them started opening.  I didn’t know what to do!  I was able force them shut except one so, I put a rubber band on it.”

*Snort*  Poor mussel!  Bad enough that he’s going to be put into boiling liquid, but he needs to be suffocated before hand?  I explained that it was OK for them to open, that it allowed the mussels to breath and filter in fresh water to clean them out.  DH’s response?  “Breath???  They are alive???”  I couldn’t help it, I just lost it and started laughing out loud.  D can be so darn cute sometimes.  I am glad that I’m at work because if I was home, I would have been tempted to take over.

Now I’m on the phone with him answering what he should do with the tails on the shrimp.  And he is telling me that I have to pick up Soso as he’s feeling overwhelmed.  Mind you, it is noon and dinner doesn’t start until 6:30.   Good thing we decided to keep things simple and this is the only major thing he has to cook today!

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