Today I lost the dinner battle. The girls didn't want to eat due to our own parental mistake of a late snack. We sent The Monster to her room for having a snippy attitude. (She now says "Double" instead of "Oh Man" when she's extra frustrated because that is short for "Oh Man, doubled.") Frankly, dinner wasn't all that great either.
It was supposed to be good. It was a meal that was going to make my preggo sister-in-law jealous when she logged in from the office tomorrow. Sticky, slightly spicy ribs, roasted potatoes, and coleslaw with orange and pomegranates. For dessert, gingerbread cake, her mom's recipe.
The ribs were tough. I cook them about once every few years, so that is totally my fault in assuming I knew what the hell I was doing. The sauce was great, a combo of the tomatoes and onions roasted with the ribs, tomato marmalade, molasses, sambal olek, and mustard. We would have been better off licking the sauce from the ribs than trying to, literally, pretend we were lions to get the girls to eat. Thankfully the coleslaw was tasty and I've got roasted potatoes down pat. The gingerbread cake tasted pretty good too, although, it fell.
No good pictures of our meal, no great leftovers. When I eat some gingerbread cake with my tea and a Bosc pear tomorrow morning it should be right around the time my sister-in-law arrives at work and starts her day. Know that I was thinking of you.
It's the thought that counts.
Damn you Cheryl. Damn you.
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