My friend Scarab had never eaten tacos before. She grew up on tabbouleh and stuffed vine leaves. And salt. So she came over for tacos one night. She loved them! (And who wouldn't??) As a consequence, she insisted on having the recipe. To her everlastin' credit she did not blanch when I told her that the delightful flavours and textures she had enjoyed with us that evening consisted of tipping out the contents of various jars, sachets and packets and applying heat.
Sure I like to make things from scratch, but why make unnecessary work for yourself?
A few years ago some friends were swooning over my potato salad. Their cooking is a little on the gourmet side. "But we must know how you make it!" they implored. Blushing a little, I confessed that I cooked up the taties (to be always said in an Oirish accent, to Grumpy's profound irritation), chucked in some peas and then mixed in a generous serve of Kraft potato salad dressing. (Did I say Kraft? Drat. I'm going to have to find an alternative.) Suddenly, they didn't find my potato salad quite so irresistible.
Well, let's just see them go potato salad-less at the next picnic.
1 comment:
I suppose it's only us non-Irish that call them Biaaled Maarphies.
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