So Mom often complains that Dad never cooks. The other day, he was sort of forced into it. Mom took a very yummy looking beef brisket out the freezer (or the icy snackbox as I like to call it) planning to cook it as soon as she got home so it could be ready for a late-ish dinner. But then she got delayed at work and called Dad. The conversation went like this:
"Babe - I can't get home for another 2 hours. If you want to eat, you gotta cook!"
{silence}
"Hello?"
"I'm here. You know I don't cook."
"Well, times are about to change, I promise you even Axel could cook this brisket"
["Grrrr, I resent that!!!"]
"Are you sure?"
"Quite confident. This is what you do...Take the brisket, put it in a large pyrex dish. Take the bottle of bbq sauce I left on the counter, pour it over the meat. Take the packet of onion soup mix I left on the kitchen counter, and pour that over the meat. Finally, take a can of coke and pour THAT over the meat. Cover it and put it in the oven."
"Then what?"
"Then nothing, that's it. Do it now and it will be ready in 3 hours!"
So Dad and I got to it and it took about 2 minutes to mix the ingredients and put the beast in the oven. Over time, the house filled with the most delish smell!
When Mom got home, Dad took it out the oven and sliced it with an electric knife while I supervised (with my mouth open). It was scrumptuous, soft and tasty...heavenly.
And Dad strutted around the kitchen like a proud peacock like he'd given birth to the brisket. Mom was most amused. But alas, Dad has not cooked since!
AGC
PS The parents saw a house they liked primarily because it was above a creek and they pictured me running amok and frolicking in there....don't forget to check out mom's blog to read more...
