The kids didn't like my latkes. Well, that was a waste of energy.
Note to self: cooking is a waste. You know what Secundo wanted? Freaking Subway. Because in New York, you NEED to go to a national chain called Subway. As I reminded Secundo, they're called heroes in these parts.
Feh.
Feh.
Feh^2.
Whatever. The latkes were decently good. I had them with sour cream all by my ownself.
2 comments:
Maybe he wants subway now, but when he's 25, he'll call you up and say, Mom, what's the recipe for those wonderful latkes you always made, I loved them so much... because he'll be sentimental about his golden childhood! I made them three times so far - mostly because I'm on a two month eating binge. (And have 8 brand-spanking new pounds to show for it!)
Heh, revisionist history strikes again. I can only hope. My children have disconcertingly good memories, esp. for the bad stuff, but maybe they'll mellow.
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