Well, Kentucky had a good run this year even though UConn stole our national championship by 1 point. I made some cute sugar cookies for the Final Four game last weekend:
Get it? Josh Harrellson cookies. I am going to miss when Harrellson and I graduate and I no longer live in an atmosphere of constant mania caused by people who are wearing non-ironic cutoff jeans. It's like the 90's again.
Anyway, that was enough of pretending like I know anything about sports. My idea of game day food was a fillo spinach pie.
I learned how to make this dish from my mom, using her 20-year-old stained spanikopita recipe which has added deliciousness to our lives time and time again. I didn't have the recipe with me this time, so I had to work from memory.
It wasn't terrible, but I wish I had used a better quality feta than whatever was shipped to the Middle Eastern grocery story from Turkey or somewhere. It came in a carton, grossssssss you guys. Authentic, or authentically bad?
Anyway, everyone at least pretended to like the spanikopita.
Plenty of leftovers.
Now I wonder what I should do with the leftover feta cheese. Dudes, it was runny, like sour cream. That is never supposed to happen. I guess I could stir the rest of it into a dip of some kind.
Oh yeah, speaking of dip, I intended to also make pita chips. Unfortunately, I have the tendency to be very forgetful that includes a track record of boiling all our pots dry until the handle melts because I wanted to make tea 7 hours ago.
Here's how it went down.
"Did you turn off the oven?"
"Uh, yeah. Of COURSE I did. Duh, I even took out the spanikopita."
"Really? Because it smells like something burning. Will you go check?"
"Psssht. Yeah, I'll go check, but I guarantee you I turned it off."
(I leave the room and come back.)
"Yeah, TOLD you, I turned off the oven.
.... Just now."
(pause while everyone laughs at me)
--One hour later--
"Oh, CRAP, you guys, I was making pita chips!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Threw open the oven to find my precious pita chips, now pita charcoal.
(For the record, that is not rye flour. Not even close.)
It's the thought that counts?
(most commonly repeated untrue statement ever.)
Well, no one is giving me the Conscientious Award, but at least I tried.