I decided to try something new for dinner, so I took a big girl pill (or, as my sister says, pulled on some big girl panties), and tried a recipe that I found online (on a site that looks totally reputable, and also funny). The big girl pill was not trying a new recipe, but trying a recipe that leaves my comfort zone of cayenne, cumin, and smoked paprika, and into the land of warm fruity main dishes. In fact, this site called in a "bowl full of fall".
Okay, I tried. I really did. I'm sure someone (lots of someones) somewhere (lots of somewheres) would like it. None of those people live in my house. In my house, it was a bowl full of disaster. The level of food-fiasco was directly proportional to the amount of it left in the bowl. And it was made perfectly. I am just not a fruity-sweety-main-dish kinda girl. Apparently neither are the rest of them. (Especially not the boys, I guess. They're not even fruity-sweety-main-dish kinda boys.)
So now my beloved Alton wants me to eat the healthy snack alternative, edamame. And I want me to eat the healthy snack alternative. What's more, I want to introduce my kids to the healthy snack alternative. After all, if you teach them to like something when they're young, they don't have to overcome that hurtle when they're older and less flexy in their likes and dislikes. But, damn, I just can't seem to find those big girl panties anywhere.