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.

A million groceries later. This–

–and–

–plus this–

–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.)

xoxo,

Jenn