I have a funny family. Whenever we’re together…like all of us…it is always a good time. Sadly we are starting to spread across the country and around the world. This last weekend I was invited to go out with my parents to a bar. I know! You are no more shocked than I was. Well, this wasn’t just any bar. It was located in a school where my mom taught music for several years before she retired. That is the only reason she wanted to go. We didn’t stay too long. The parking lot was packed and the small space was just too loud. The novelty of the evening wouldn’t have been enjoyable…even though the fries smelled delicious.
We then traveled back to the nearest town (which I dislike enough to not even type) and had dinner at a local pizza place owned by some long time family friends. It is decorated in a very classic Italian style that inspired me enough to order a glass of Chianti. It is my favorite. Apparently it was my grandmother’s favorite too. My mom recounted a story that had me in tears before our pizza arrived…
It is no secret that my grandparents were good drinkers. It is also no secret that my grandmother was NOT a good baker. But somehow the combination of the two yielded something….interesting. The story goes that Granny opened a bottle of Chianti while baking a carrot cake for a small Christmas gathering. By the time the cake was ready to be frosted the bottle was empty. So far so good. Dinner was delicious. The company was wonderful. The cards were shuffled and the cake was being served. Now, I’m not really sure how this came to happen, but when the first bit of cake was taken it didn’t take long for the reviews of the cake to come in. It seems that somehow, in my grandmothers wine inspired cake finishing, that she frosted her famous carrot cake with French onion dip.
Cheers.
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