I remember vividly the excitement of ripping open a box of Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pies.  Or her chocolate cakes.  Or her cinnamon coffee cake muffins.   I’d forgotten about how wonderful she could make partially hydrogenated oil taste.  My children, truth be told, have not had the opportunity to eat all that crap as I did as a child.

Until this summer.

While at Pop-pop’s little cottage at the beach, I went shopping at the same mom-and-pop store my dad used to shop, called G and E Grocery Store, in Ocean View, Delaware.  This is where we as a family have been able to find “Beach Sausage,” as Pop-pop had dubbed it.  Milton sausage, made right there in Milton, Delaware.  Those butchers know their way around a vat of MSG, let me tell you!

And while I was stocking up on our favorite summertime, artery-clogging, chemically laden pork product, I passed an aisle that reminded me of Little Debbie, and her glorious sweets.  Only this time, I found she’s expanded into a beach theme!

I wondered how they would taste.  I surmised probably like all the other little cakes of hers I’d ever tasted.  But, see, I’m not one who likes to make assumptions…whenever I do, I always come out looking like the proverbial ASS in the assumption making process.  So I did what any scientist would do, and embarked on a process dedicated to research and objective fact finding.

….I bought them all.

Don’t judge.

All of my attention was hyper-focused on something terribly stressful, like trying to get the last bit of sun-melted saltwater sticky taffy off of it’s waxed paper wrapper, when I vaguely heard the music from the local sno-cone truck.  I also vaguely remember both of my kids running to My Captain, hearing the dangle of change from his pocket, and then the sound of the doors of Pop-pop’s little cottage, where we were vacationing for the week, slamming.

Moments later, when I finally surfaced from the wax paper task, and had hidden any evidence of it thoroughly, I realized the cottage was awfully quiet.

I worried, as any good mama would do, and set out to find my two most likely mess-makers.  I got as far as the garden porch, when I spied this:

Aw!  Critter and Varmint are so like their mama, equating summer with excessive sugar consumption!

Whatcha doin’ guys?

Tasting rainbows, mom.  Ever tasted a rainbow?

Can’t say that I have darlins!

They taste an awful lot like one of your kisses, Mom.

Pardon me, friends, while I melt into putty that would fit in the palm of my children’s hands.

Critter and Varmint spent last week out west with their Dad…exploring Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone Park, and Grand Teton National Park.  They hit four different states in the course of their travels, took over a thousand pictures, and wore their crocs out.

You know you’re walking a lot when you wear out a pair of non-biodegradable Crocs.

When they got home, Varmint couldn’t stop talking, she was so excited to share what she’d seen.   Critter punched her, demanded the floor, and proceeded to tell the exact same stories, only with his funny perspective injected.

And when he finished he said, “Mom, it was awesome.  But coming home is still the best part.”

I laughed and told him he didn’t have to say that to make me feel good.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “Mom, I didn’t say it to make you feel good.  If I wanted to make you feel good, I’d just tell you that I love you so much, no matter where I go.”

Well then……

Welcome home, my son.

I love you too.

One of my favorite Master Firefighters, who I have known as long as I’ve known My Captain, is Kevin.

Kevin is one of those throwbacks to Sheriff Taylor on The Andy Griffith Show.  He is slow to anger, swift to do good works, and just a plain, old fashioned, true blue, Good Guy.

But he has one small characteristic that opens him up for mischief at the fire house:

He’s trusting.

This is not necessarily a good thing when you are surrounded by fun-loving firemen.

Now meet Brent.

Brent is not old-fashioned, and enjoys contemporary pranking.  Brent, and his buddy, Logan, have spent the past several weeks making Kevin’s life a little more, er, difficult.

Now Kev has his quirks, as everyone does, and his main quirk is that he is just a tad OCD about his coffee.  He has to have his coffee cup nearby no matter what.  In fact, he made a special coffee cup holder for when he is driving the engine.

He’s serious about his coffee, and even more so about his particular coffee mug, and makes no effort to hide it.

Which is unfortunate, because Brent and Logan jumped on that faster than Sir Monty to catnip.

One day, Kevin came to line up very pleased with himself because he’d bought several new coffee mugs, custom made, on Amazon.  He made the mistake of mentioning it.  You can believe that the moment line up was over, Brent and Logan were plotting.  They went onto Amazon and ordered the same mug…with the sole purpose of messing with poor Kev.

They had it made just like Kevin’s and even put a dent in it to match it exactly.

And then, when Kev wasn’t paying attention, they would switch his mug out with theirs, after doing things to the coffee like:

…. pouring Worchestershire sauce in it, or

…..adding salt to it, or

…..making it cold…

and then they’d wait for him to take a big swig.

Sometimes they’d swap his mug for theirs right under his nose, and they were so smooth he never even noticed.

Then they also took the evil counterfeit mug around the county and took pictures of it on toilets, in physically compromising situations, and other awkward things.  They did this for a good long while, enjoying Kevin’s reactions!

Eventually, they took it out back and beat the crap out of it….all for the sole purpose of wearing Kevin out.

And Kev?  How did he handle this?  He’s their senior by far, and never did anything to provoke this kind of thing.  Did he get mad?  Did he make them do extra work, seeing as he is their Master Firefighter (kind of like being a Sergeant Major in the army)?

Nope.  He’s as good-natured as he is true blue, our Kev.

After the joke was played out, he could admit that it was funny as heck!  Not at all right, but it’s pretty ding-dang funny!

They have a saying at the firehouse.  ‘If they aren’t picking on you, they don’t like you.’

They love Kevin to death!

But I wonder….do they think Kev doesn’t have a few tricks up his sleeve as well?  This ain’t his first rodeo.

Stay tuned…I’m sure we’ve not heard the last of this story!

I was crazy starving.  I’d skipped breakfast, ran around in circles with my hair on fire all morning (some people call it doing errands), and it was nearly 3pm.  Mama gets cranky when she misses regular doses of fat and sugar.   Thank God for the caffeine.

We were in the Kentlands and My Captain suggested we try Brasserie Beck, a relatively new Belgian restaurant here in Gaithersburg, Maryland.  To be honest, I would have eaten anywhere at that point. I would have eaten anything.  I’d have gnawed on My Captain’s arm if I could catch him.

We sat down on the lovely patio, and ordered drinks to celebrate…lunch!  My Captain ordered a beer called Houblong Chouffe, which sounded dirty to me, frankly.  It was described as a beer that had undertones of banana bread, apricot, and allspice.  I gave him a concerned look.  Surely a guy could have his mancard taken away for drinking beer with undertones of banana bread?

But he liked it well enough.

I had a sparking wine called Biutiful Cava, and was by far classier than Mr. Banana Bread Beer, sitting next to me, that’s for dingdang sure.

The appetizers came out, and the party in my mouth began!  We started with a watermelon goat cheese salad.  There were bits of onion, chive, and other savories mixed in with heirloom watermelon of pink and yellow.  My tongue was like, “Ah! Summertime watermelon!  Wait….Whaaaaa?  Is that salty goat cheese?  Holy Crap is that yummy!”  And it said all of that in a bad French accent.  Don’t ask me why; I’ve no idea.

And with that wonderful salad we ordered a small cheese plate, since I was feeling snooty and was drinking sparkling wine.  I started lifting my pinky because it seemed apropos.  And I used the word apropos because that is the kind of word someone who raises their pinky when they drink would do.  See how consistent I am?  Clearly I have blue blood somewhere mixed in with my horse-thieve ancestors.

Where was I?  Right, cheese tray.  I can’t remember the KINDS of cheese we ate..but I can tell you that between the Portugese and Italian goats/blues/swisses…mixed with the onion relish and quince preserve…I was in a new world of flavor.   It was like my palate was Dorothy, and we’d left black and white Kansas and had entered high-def deluxe colorchrome Munchkin Land.  What I’m saying is the cheese/preserve combos were all singing to me with their little flower hats, and high pitched voices.  I had my ruby red slippers on (size 11, wide) and was ready to roll down that gastronomic yellow brick road.

THEN the main course came.   I knew we were in for an adventure when My Captain was given a paddle in preparation for it.

Which is entirely different from being paddled.  Though that would have been an adventure as well.

Why did he need a paddle?  As a trivet for THIS:

HOLY shellfish, Batman!   Mussels in Applewood smoked bacon and truffle cream, thank you very much!  I thought My Captain’s eyes were going to roll back into his head on the first bite.

He tried to get me to taste it, but, and please don’t hate me for this, I just can’t bring myself to eat mussels.  I know, I know, you think less of me.  But wait!  I can make it up to you…I ordered the Croque Monsieur…

This was the most amazing open faced ham sandwich I’ve ever eaten in my life.   The ham was Rosemary ham from Italy, the parsley crisp fried, and the béchamel sauce ladled on top of it was so delicate I wept.  (Though to be honest, delicate or not, I could have drunk that stuff by the buckets.  I’m no stranger to vulgar displays of overindulgence.)

Both of our entrees were served with French….er…Belgian fries (or Pommes Frites) and aioli sauces….garlic, vinegar, and red curry.  I’ll never eat fries with ketchup again.  (A blatant lie, but it sounds good.)

We saved some for My Captain’s lunch tomorrow at work, and also so we’d have room for dessert…because clearly we were going to need to try the sweets at this phenomenal restaurant.  We started with the chocolate gateau…which to be fair should have just been called a mousse.  It was rich….and I’m talking rich like Bill Gates rich…chocolate, on a Grand Marnier cream swath (again, I could have drunk a vat of that), with fresh raspberry sorbet scooped on top.

Artfully plated!

Look at that.  Ay Carumba.  And the taste?  Well, here’s the action shot…NO ACTING!

The entry….

The commitment…

Oh. Holy. Crap.  I wept with joy.  Creamy, chocolaty, orangey (which rhymes with nothing at all), raspberry-y…it was fabulous.  How could they top that?

Gee, I don’t know, how’s about with a little Fresh Cherry Crème Brulee action….

complete with gold leaf garnish?

Look at that.  Look At That!  LOOK. AT. THAT.  That, my loves, is cherry juice.  Fresh beautiful, voluptuous cherry juice.  This was by far my favorite dessert.

And I used the gold leaf to accessorize my redneck-pink cotton polyester Kmart blouse.  Because that’s the way I roll.   Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.

And lastly, our patient and kind waiter, Demetri, brought out the best coffee EVER..on a silver tray to go with my newly gold-plated tooth.

All I can say, friends, is that if you are in the area, you have…have…HAVE to try this place.  It’s not dinner, it’s a freaking gastronomical adventure.

The one downside?  We had to make some tough choices in order to pay our bill.  Lunch for just the two of us came to over $100.00…which frankly we had not nearly planned on spending for a single meal.  Firefighters can’t eat out like that AND pay for things like children’s clothing.  So something had to go, and we’re sad to say at least one of our kids will have to go naked for a while.  We can’t agree on which one it will have to be, though, so chances are it will be whichever one pisses us off next.

Any bets on who that might be?