Monday, August 13, 2007

heaven sent

It started in the fourth week with coconut ice cream. One scoop a day and oh it was so good – and I don’t even like coconut all that much. By week six it was soft serve ice cream with a caramel drizzle. No cone, no waffle bowl, just the soft serve and the decadent caramel and maybe, just maybe, a few pecans. In week eight I forced Chip to stride up and down the ice cream aisle for cookies and cream ice cream – the real kind, I moaned. No fakeys. Amidst the had to have it cravings, I battled with The Quease (still am). What is a have to have it food one day can become the last thing I could possibly want to eat, like EVER (except beans – beans are still the Grade A Number 1 No-No in the Romero household).

But in all of this, I haven’t had a weird food craving. Until last week, when the sour cream fix set in. I was wandering the grocery aisles (I simply should NOT be allowed there unsupervised) and had already picked up some cereal, milk, wrangler cheese franks (please don’t judge), and hot dog buns. Suddenly, there in the dairy section I found my bliss: sour cream. I snatched up a container and then made a beeline for the soup aisle, where I also picked up the One Item That Would Make My Grocery Cart Complete: onion soup mix. Once home, I mixed up the soup mix and the sour cream – stir stir breathe in the lovely oniony fumes – and put a nice dollop on my plate. Strangely enough, once I sat down and started eating, the chips and dip... just weren’t as good as I imagined. In the next two days, I kept eating the chips & dip, thinking that maybe it was just a fluke. But each time, I loved the smell of the dip, the stirring, the dollop on my plate. I would lovingly lick the spoon of all its oniony dip goodness. But once it came chip time, I was unimpressed. Until Saturday. When we ran out of chips. And I still wanted the dip (do you know where this is going? – I’m not so sure you do.). I had made myself a peanut butter and honey sandwich, and it sat on my plate all lonely and dejected. So I pulled out the dip – stir stir stir, sniff, dollop, LICK SPOON. I’m going to eat this dip without any dipping action, and that’s just fine. When, to my amazement, I found myself thinking of the delectable combination of peanut butter and honey sandwich WITH ONION DIP. So I dipped. My sandwich. In the dip. And lo, it was good. IT WAS FANTASTICALLY AWESOME. I was blown away by it’s awesomeness.

I made a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner last night. And you know what I had as a side dish? SOUR CREAM AND ONION DIP, BABY. For sandwich dipping.

When Chip came home and I told him to try it, it’s SO GOOD, he believed me. And he tried it. And then he made this gagging noise and a horrible yak face and said, “I no longer doubt you are pregnant. This is one of the more disgusting things I’ve ever tried. It’s horrible.”

That’s just fine, my friend. Leaves more dip and sandwiches for me.

1 comment:

The Wife said...

Oh, Friend...this is beyond revolting! :) The cheese sandwich with the onion dip...okay, I could maybe try that. But the PB&H? You are SOOOOO pregnant! I'm a soup dipper, I must admit. Though I hardly count as a) am not pregnant and b) live 3000 miles away and c) am embarassingly picky. Still...was funny...please, go back to the magic salad! :)