One of the best things about being empty nesters is not having to cook full meals every night.
Billβs easy, always has been; heβs not the meat and potatoes kind of guy. Weβre happy with soup, BLTs, burgers on the grill, my sensational ham and cheddar omelets β¦ you get the picture.
There are some days when I feel the urge to cook and will prepare a lovely risotto or perhaps seared sea scallops over a lentil ragΓΉ. Rare but it does happen. Iβm very content taking it easy these days.
But I have to draw the line at one thing: Chef Boyardee ravioli in a can. Six words that never should be put together. Itβs a travesty; itβs also one of Billβs favorites.
I was raised on pure, natural homemade Italian food. βPastaβ in a can is not food. Correction β itβs food: bad food, eye-averting food, gag-inducing food. Itβs a treat for Bill to eat this staple from his childhood. He gets practically giddy buttering his bread and dipping it in the (dare I say) sauce in anticipation of that first mouthful. That, my friends, is a scene that once seen cannot be unseen.
Me? I wonβt even open the can.
Gag me with a spoon!
NAR Β© 2023
The Elephant's Trunk 