Whenever Dad sees something disagreeable, he furrows his brows, casts a look of disgust at the offending object, and pronounces it “oogaly.” The first time he met Miaosie, he took in her parti-colored face, crooked-looking mouth, scrubby Siamese mix coloring, sighed and said she was ugly. Only it came out “oogaly.”
Of course, after I noisily voiced my dissent, he reluctantly agreed that her imperfections lend her a slight sort of charm.
Dinner tonight was not just ugly. It was worse. It could only be classified as “oogaly.”
M and I got home this evening, unpacked the car and immediately went grocery shopping. I think he had enough of my pitiful stories of starving last week while he was away on business, and wanted to make sure the house was restocked.
–turned into dinner.
Greek feta salad with the new addition of mint which made it extra fresh-tasting. Yummy freshly baked pugliese bread from Cala Foods. Blanched green beans with toasted sesame oil, garlic powder, salt and cayenne. And that thing on the right.
Oh, I forgot to mention what it was? Here is a close-up.
That unholy mess is my first attempt at Indian food. Since we were short on time and empty in the stomach, I opened a can of spinach, squished as much water out as possible and added it to a saute of onions, carrot, red bell pepper, tomato and green onion. Then sloshed in some canned tomato sauce and Masala Simmer Sauce M picked up from Trader Joe’s today.
The spinach really added to the aesthetic presentation of this dish.
Not in a good way.
M ate the green beans. Grabbed a hunk of bread and ate it with the Greek salad. He stared at the greenish grayish bowl in front of him. I said, “No pressure.”
M carefully tried it. Surprisingly, he liked it and dug in.
M: “It’s just hard to get around the color.”
Yea, duck poop was on my mind the entire dinner.
(Sorry, I said it.)