Can’t believe I’ve never seen these before. Very glad research and time is going toward important things like this.
I make fresh corn on the cob in the microwave about once a month. I have so many other things in my life to commit to memory, that I never bother to remember how long to microwave corn, so I always look it up on Google. Little did I know, Google is getting tired of me looking up the same thing over and over again. Maybe other people don’t notice these things, but I notice when Google’s giving me a little dig. “You’ve visited this page 3 times.” It really means, “Seriously? You’re going to visit it again? It’s 3 – 4 minutes. How hard can that be to remember?” Yep, I know what you really mean, Google.
Tomorrow we celebrate Christmas in Sweden. This means a huge Christmas dinner (lunch actually).
As you can guess, there are a lot of meatballs involved. Also sausages, ham and potatoes. Many families eat pickled herring. I’m not into that nonsense.
Anyway, tonight will be the usual tradition of my husband cooking tons of meatballs all evening in preparation for tomorrow. Honestly, how can I not make the annual Swedish chef joke? You have to take advantage of the material given to you. In honor of his hard work, here is a picture of my husband the last time he cooked chicken.
I’m trying to cook Vietnamese Pho for dinner. I know I won’t be able to get it exactly like the restaurants, but I try my best. However, I’ve realized I have a bad habit of wanting to add the wrong spices to things. I just took a look at my spice cabinet and chose “Bangkok Blend” (because Thailand is close to Vietnam) and “Trinidad” spice (cause Trinidad is island-y and so are limes). This choice will either turn out to be brilliant or completely ridiculous.
Sausage. How can anyone mess up a sausage? This was always my belief until I moved to Sweden. How do you mess it up? Turn it into falukorv! I’m not sure what falukorv is either than a nasty sausage that has a slight pickling taste. Sausages are not to be pickled!
For some reason, kids love this, so the only time my husband and sons get to eat it is when I go out. Wait a minute…. now I’m realizing why they’re always telling me I should go out more often. Hm….