The horror in the picture is called a rosti nest. Crafted with love from grated boiled potatoes and carrots with an egg in the middle, it was approached with fear and treated with reverence by all. including my normally fearless two year old. I said 'crafted' because it looks like an art project gone wrong. According to my husband "it glows in the dark." Number one son actually addressed it from a distance, in whispers. Hysterically funny, even if I did spend quite some time slaving over the nest. The name should have been my first clue - what about 'rosti nests' screams "yum?". My point exactly. But I do love my baby and toddler cookbook, the meals are usually delish and healthy and great for both kids and adults ( cause who has time in the real world to make separate meals for husbands and kids?). But the rostis? Admittedly, a doozie. Even I, didn't get it. And I will usually eat my messes. I mean cooking. I'm making shish kebabs tonight as a peace offering, so it's okay to be home for dinner, dear. Promise.
No comments:
Post a Comment