Say cheese!

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M had invited us over for a “nostalgia brunch” of creamed chipped beef (or as it’s more commonly known: shit on a shingle.) I grew up with this dish as well, but my mom made hers with a cream sauce as opposed to the cheese sauce that M’s mom favored. (T & J were apparently spared this tradition, so they were useless as tie-breakers.) When we got to M & J’s place, there was the lovely fragrance of this bubbling on the stove:

The secret ingredient? Scary cheese:

Or should I say “cheeze™”? All I know, is that if it doesn’t need to be refrigerated, it isn’t cheese. To counteract this and the pressed “beef,” J had baked homemade white bread to go along with the dish:

While definitely not healthy for you, it was a very yummy brunch. Little Fergus looked on in jealousy from his sunbeam (Isn’t he ridiculous?)

Afterward, T & I headed home. Dad & Baby Cyclone stopped by our place for a little visit, which was nice as we haven’t seen him in a while and it was good to catch up and see more of the munchkin (who continues to be one of those disgustingly well-behaved babies.) Note to self: make sure to pre-order the ant farm and chemistry set now…

Afterward, T & I set about doing some cooking of our own. I decided to be ambitious and roast an extra chicken with the one I was making for dinner, so we’d have extra chicken for other recipes during the week. I must say, I roast a mean chicken:

Meanwhile, T was making another bread and getting flour all over himself and the ever-present Smokey Joe in the process:

Undeterred by being sprinkled with flour and banned from the kitchen, Smokey Joe continued to work on his “I’m going to die if I don’t get some of that chicken or bread or whatever else you’re making” face:

Happy MLK Jr. Day everyone!

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