I am a vile, disgusting person. A lunatic some might say. I deserve to be reviled and stomped on. All 5 of you should stop reading my blog and send me hate mail.
Here's what I did. I have a friend. A true pal. We potty train together, jump in puddles and let our kids sprinkle baby powder snow on really boring days. This dear friend (you guessed right, she's Stephanie Melber, reknowned Jim Thorpe mother of 4) graced me with my first dish of pineapple stuffing not too far back.
Since then, I solicited the recipe and whipped up the dish for many a cavorting crowd ... all to gasps and rave reviews. "Oh the smell ... is that apple? no, it's more exotic? is this bread pudding? no, it is far far too good ... what is this? we need more! MORE, MORE PINEAPPLE STUFFING! WE'RE GOING CRAZY! WE COULD EAT IT FOR DAYS! STOP YOUR BLABBING, GET BACK IN THAT KITCHEN AND MAKE US MORE! WE'RE MAD! WE'RE SICK AND WE'RE NOT GOING HOME UNTIL ..." (well, you get the picture ... and those were just my inlaws ... my direct relations were not as kind).
All the while, I smiled and offered seconds. Never once did I even off handedly give credit where credit was due.
So here's my point and my problem, somehow Stephanie has discovered my fraudulence and now I think she's out to get me (she's been known to do things like toilet paper folks cars and such).
I don't expect Mrs. Melber to forgive me anytime soon. Perhaps to taunt me, she dropped off another hot dish this evening (see picture above). I pretended I wasn't home. She peaked in the window, threw her hands in the air and let out a huff. Her fingers were still bleeding from hand shredding the pineapple rind.
I ate the whole thing. It was delicious. But that's not the sick part ... since only 5 of you read my blog I may just continue passing the stuffing off as my own. Sick, I tell you, I'm sick.