Every other Tuesday some of the women (Girls? Ladies? I never which category I fit in to. I mean, I guess at 26 I'm a woman, but still.) in our ward get together for "lunch group"- kinda like playgroup, but with food, and you don't have to have kids to come. I actually thought about doing something like this back in Vegas, but never really got up the motivation to do so, and couldn't imagine 20 kids tearing around our little townhouse. I'd crack. Anyway, when the weather was nice we would go to a neighborhood park, and now different women take turns hosting it. The only rule for lunch group is you have to bring something to share. No specific something, there's no sign up for main dishes and appetizers and such, but somewhow it seems to work out very well every time.
Bonus? Turns out one woman in our ward is writing a cookbook (and tests her delicious recipes on the group), one is part of some cooking group- and we again get to reap the rewards-, and a third is opening a bakery and needs people for tastings. This is me, in freaking heaven. It's like I landed in the midst of some sort of amazing food trifecta. The only thing that could make it better is if someone said that her aunt is Ina Garten and she will be joining us next time. I think I'd have to die immediately after said next time, not only from the heart attack brought on by her creamy buttery food goodness, but because I surely would not have another meal that decadent in the rest of my life. It'd be kind of sad for my family and friends, but if I could visit them from the grave, I would say, "The only thing you should be sad about is that you didn't get any of that food. Seriously. I died HAPPY."
1 comment:
At least I would get $250,000 for your food death, but I actually would rather have you alive.
P.S. Who would cook for me if you were dead?
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