The rush to get it done ...
It was a last minute addition to the menu: chocolate avocado pudding. No stovetop required, just blend and chill. But was late in the day. It would be a rush to get the pudding made, chilled, and ready to serve. But it was possible. With the familiarity that comes with having made the recipe a number of times, I cut and pitted the avocado, measured the cocoa powder, maple syrup, milk, and vanilla, and whipped it together. After spooning the pudding into individual serving bowls, I slid the bowls into the freezer for 15 minutes to speed the cooling. When I reached back into the freezer to transfer them down into the refrigerator, condensation had formed on the outside of the bowls, and they were slippery. One down, two down, three, and things were going well. When I lifted the fourth, the bowl slipped from my hand. Boom. It hit the floor. The bowl didn't break, but the jolt tossed the pudding from the bowl and it sprayed in every direction possible ... landing on my slacks, my sleeves, in my hair, on my face, and surrounding kitchen cabinets. The first gasp I let out was for the bowl as it slipped from my hand. The second, for the dollop of pudding that landed on my cheek. And the third, loudest of all, came as I slid to the floor, in a full split, when I stepped forward and lost my chocolate-covered footing. Oh, I wanted to cry, almost did cry, but the dollop on my cheek slid down and touched my lip. Huh? Pudding ... sweet ... cool ... so good. And then I laughed. Yes, I got the pudding made, but I'd also created a lot of work for myself when it came to cleaning up the mess I'd made. National Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk Day reminded me of my pudding predicament and another saying: haste makes waste ... yes it does, and it puts you down one serving, puddin'. -------- p.s. for the grammar buffs: Is it "spilled" or "spilt?"
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