7 November 2008

Red and White


Sonja likes it when she opens the front door and is greeted by our slobbering dog, like she always is, and the smell of something cooking. If I do not cook anything the house smells like fucking beer.

Tonight I made cranberry muffins. I like cooking stuff that I have seen grown in sight of where I have walked my dog. If you have ever watched cranberries being harvested (usually in the pouring rain) you can appreciate the bone-chilling hard labour that gets them into your muffin pans. The spelt flakes that went into the recipe came from a farm close to here too.

When Sonja came home from work she said, "Mmmm, what are you cooking?" When I told her she asked, "Do we have any cranberry wine to go with the muffins?"

"Does beer grow on trees?" I asked, before I reached into the bottom of the fridge for the bottle of the Fort Winery's white cranberry.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow, you make muffins! Impressive. :)

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Besides drinking and fucking, cooking is how Canadian men keep warm in the winter. Now that I am something of a geezer I do more drinking and cooking than ever.