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Thanks be to the backup ham.

In talking with Bean about the next steps in getting the meal from the kitchen to the table, she glanced over my shoulder off into the distance. I looked at her questioningly and as she brought her gaze back to me, she says, “Out your window there, I thought I saw something blowin’ in the wind,” to which of course I reply, “I do hope it’s the answer, my friend.” I’d just made a rather bloody go of carving a leg of lamb. Or trying. The result was nothing short of a small scale slaughter, unfortunately.

That hunk of meat- in a word, gelatinous. With no time to run my usual pre-holiday test when serving up a new main dish, I chose to wing it resulting in less than stellar results. With each passing hour, what should have produced a medium rare ode to the lamb that gave its life, instead proved a challenge for even my most worthy of knives. Minutes passed by as I sawed away, at last arriving at a near liquid center. Yummy. Clearly no reasonable passage of time was going to allow us to serve it up that day, so in the end, it was given the heave-ho. Thankfully, I’d been porkin’ the roast, uh, roastin’ the pork all along, taking our ham from second star to the right all the way to lonestar status.

And dessert? Twasn’t to be trifled with.


Peep, peep, peep! Cheap.

Here a peep, there a peep, everywhere a- yeah, yeah, this year I skewered ‘em.


Stay Puft.

And that they did, despite their status on a stick.


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