I did something fabulous with Brussels sprouts.
Or something sacrilegious, depending how you feel about it. But we’re BFFs. So you’ll probably be into it. Or get into it.
So we have a new restaurant here and it’s owned by the same people as one of my all-time favorite restaurants. When we were there for the first time a few weeks ago, one of the specials happened to be fried Brussels sprouts and I didn’t even hesitate before practically shouting YES WE WANT THEM! to the server. Shocking. I know. You know me and Brussels sprouts right now.
Obviously our affair was only going to ramp up if the little things were freaking fried.
This breakfast leaves me at a complete loss for words.
Okay, maybe not a COMPLETE complete loss. But quite close. It’s my I’m-sorry breakfast.
You know when something slightly painful and possibly embarrassing happens to a friend or a sibling or your spouse (cough cough), and it’s like they trip and fall in public but they are totally okay, not hurt whatsoever, besides the giant bruise to their pride… and you can’t help but laugh? Like you try so so so so hard to not laugh, but it just bubbles up inside of you and explodes?
Yeah. That happened to me recently. The laughing part – not the tripping part. Ironically, it sort of happened again last night and I wanted to be an adult and have learned my lesson… but I didn’t.
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