She picks up a frozen box and says, "You should try this. It's great."
Tonight I decide to make it.
Around 7, Alexander asks, "So what's for dinner?"
I try to avoid answering as I am not expecting an enthusiastic endorsement when I tell him. But my son insists so I show him the box. "Ooooooh nooooooo, that looks horrible. I don't like stews. That looks disgusting. Why would you even buy it? You said we were having steak. This isn't what I was expecting." And on and on and on.
I defend my choice.
As instructed, I put the inner pouch in the microwave for 10 minutes — the upper range of the "8 to 10 minutes" instructions. I don't love the way it looks either but pretend otherwise.
I place the finished product in a nice-looking serving bowl, as if this will make it taste better. We set up to watch Madrigal, the second episode of Breaking Bad, Season Five. Alexander takes a forkful. "Okay, this isn't that bad." I taste it and disagree. It's horrid. The steak is tasteless and the texture is questionable. I bite into a small roasted potato that is cold in the center. I can eat most things, but I can't eat this.
Alexander is almost half done by the time I have taken a single bite. I admit, "Okay, you're right. This is awful."
We leave the house and pick up pizza. At least BB doesn't disappoint; it never does.
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