I decided to try a couple of new food things this week.
The first was microwaved scrambled eggs. The idea was suggested by a character in a book I was reading. I reasoned that, even if the story was fictional, the idea may not be. I searched online and found a simple recipe. It turned out pretty well. There is nothing too spectacular about the scrambled eggs, but it is a way to make scrambled eggs in two minutes without getting a pan dirty.
The second was buttermilk. Someone once suggested that as much as I like eggnog I might also enjoy buttermilk. I do recall trying buttermilk once as a child, and thinking it singularly repulsive; but, I reasoned, neither did I like eggnog as a child. So yesterday I purchased a quart of buttermilk. My 50-year-old memory of the flavor was remarkably accurate. Yes, the consistency is wonderful, but the taste is awful. So I tried making pancakes with it this morning. As it turns out, Charlie thinks they are OK.
So microwave scrambled eggs are in, buttermilk is out.
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