Memories of Cooking…

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I will have to say that it’s been a super stress­ful week so tonight I decided to chill out and make some­thing so basic for din­ner – a ham­burger. How­ever, I wanted to doc­tor it up the way I like (arugula, spicy ketchup, a touch of ff mayo, cia­batta bread and some bleu cheese & pro­volone).

While I was cook­ing, I noticed that the wine fridge has been rather neglected of late. I can’t remem­ber the last time I opened a bot­tle of wine in this house (per­haps at my last din­ner party – 5 months ago?!?!?!) so I grabbed a bot­tle of my favorite, Beau­jo­lais, and cracked it open. I poured myself a healthy glass, put that by the stove and went back to play­ing on my goal of a per­fect burger for dinner.

Then the mem­ory hit me. My grand­fa­ther did the SAME thing when he would cook – except he would have a beer mug full of his favorite beer, cold and frosty.

Some­times, its things like that which remind me – I am my grandfather’s grand­daugh­ter.

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