Shh! Can You Smell That?

Look at my boys in the kitchen! Yesterday, while I lounged on the couch, recovering from Cloverfield and my motion sickness, my Hunny and Little Guy made dinner. Hunny here is shaking a marinade, while Little Guy expresses how pleased he is to work side by side with dad doing manly food prep. Aren't they a handsome pair? They prepared a turkey breast, cooked in a most manly fashion, in the rotisserie oven.

The Hunny reminded me how happy I was to have the rotisserie. I love it so much that it has been sitting way up high, collecting dust, since we moved. When Hunny initially ordered it for me as a surprise, he was in the middle of remodeling my kitchen in Florida and had sat up one too many nights watching Ron Popeil infomercials while painting cabinets, inhaling paint fumes. I came home, after a week at a sewing conference, to a beautiful new kitchen and the news that I would soon be the proud owner of a rotisserie. Woohoo!

Days of waiting turned in to weeks. At the six week mark I called the company and asked if my shipment had been lost, blown up, maybe eaten by velociraptors (I don't know where they make these things). They told me that they only ship when they get enough orders to make a new batch, so mine would be a bit. I told them, very kindly but firmly, to cancel my order and refund my money. They then countered with a 10% discount. Sold!

At the next six week point I called back. Where's my freakin' rotisserie? I calmly asked. About to be shipped - really, was the response. Okay, definitely cancel my order and give me back my money now. Grr. But! They were going to give me another 10% discount! AND they'd throw in all kinds of extras! Like a five year warranty! Alright, alright, I'll do it. Just send me the danged rotisserie oven already.

I really do like the oven. But now that I have a smaller kitchen and much less counter space, there's no place to put the darn thing. And for me, out of sight is out of mind. Fortunately the Hunny remembered it existed and asked where it was. Well, I know exactly where everything is. I just forget we actually HAVE things if I can't see them.

I gotta tell ya, that turkey breast was to die for. He rubbed it with a little olive oil and applied a little poultry rub. It was tender, moist and delicious. We all dove in for seconds. Mmmmm. And the Little Guy loved it the most, In fact, as he was going up the stairs lasts night to bed, he said, "Thanks for asking me to cook with you, Dad." Now how sweet is that? I think I'm going to let my guys cook more often.

Until I write again ...

Flea