An Italian-American living la dolce vita in the Deep South

An Italian-American living la dolce vita in the Deep South

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Someone is in the doghouse

Let me preface this little story by telling you what we had for lunch today:


grilled marinated chicken thighs
zucchini fritters (a new recipe and a definite hit!)
creamy mashed potatoes
steamed broccoli & carrots
herbed ciabatta slices
strawberry and peach macedonia served over vanilla ice cream
red wine, espresso.


Now that I've gotten you caught up, let's continue with the rest of the story.


Earlier this evening I was curled on the couch with a good book when Jonathan comes in and asks what's for dinner. I look at him and wonder how, after today's huge lunch, he can even be hungry.


"I know, let's go to Checkers," he says.


Joe and I say no at the same time. I mention grilled cheese, or a salad, or even a bowl of cereal but he isn't buying it.


"We've had boring food all week," Jonathan complains.


There is a collective gasp from everyone. I close my book and sit up.


"Boring? We've been on vacation all week. We ate out every single meal!" I point out, squinting my eyes at him.


"Well," he says. "I mean since we've been back."


Oh, he's in t-r-o-u-b-l-e with a capital T.


"Sooo, boring like the homemade pasta Nonna brought over the night we returned?" I asked. "Or maybe you meant the homemade pizza we had two nights ago was boring. Or maybe it was the grilled halibut and seasoned rice with bruschetta and the creamiest mozzarella we've had in a long time. Oh, I know, it was lunch today. All that was pretty boring."


Jonathan is caught, and he knows it. So he flashes his dimples.


That usually works, but I'm not through with him.


"Tonight, dinner is a boring sandwich," I say. "A healthy, ordinary, boring sandwich."


Now, my mother reads this blog. And before she thinks that I am starving her poor, neglected, hungry grandson, and before everyone starts feeling sorry for poor, deprived, all-he-wants-is-a-hamburger Jonathan, please take note that in the end he did not have a boring, ordinary sandwich.


It was a fresh turkey and crispy bacon sandwich, with romaine lettuce and roma tomatoes, served on toasted ciabatta bread.


Boring my foot.


He may have put his foot in his mouth, but look at those dimples.
Gotta love him.

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