I had a chocolate phase in high school. One Sunday afternoon, Dad wanted to do something fun for me. He decided to get creative.
“I’ve got this!” was the enthusiastic pronouncement from the kitchen. Just the right inspiration, just the right ingredients. Pasta? He had fettuccine down. Chocolate? Well, syrup drizzled on like sauce.
I lifted and lowered my fork stoically, but he knew it was a dish that gone wrong. My only regret was that I never got to return the favor!
One Sunday I was visiting my grandmother, and with lunchtime coming, she told me to sit down while she was making lunch for me (because for some reason you can never leave your grandparents’ home without eating!).
A few minutes later, she returned with a cup of tea and a sandwich. After taking a sip of tea, I bit into the sandwich and I was immediately met by a loud crunch, which was then followed by a sharp, pungent taste. It turned out that grandma was a big fan of onions, and she decided to make me a raw onion sandwich!
I put my hatred of raw onions to the side and forced to feed myself this sandwich while smiling and nodding in appreciation. I was just thankful that she hadn’t made me two of them!
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