Some people take in stray animals. I take in stray cabbages. For some reason, I associated my failure at coleslaw with my food processor. Tonight I learned it was not the fault of the food processor. I am just not destined to make good coleslaw.
The photos I took somehow did not even stay on the camera. Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much.
Imagine a cabbage the size of the basketball with the weight of bowling bowl.
Then imagine a small vat of brightly colored coleslaw (putting carrots through the food processor was way too fun, seriously, TOO fun, I had way too many carrots in there by the end).
So I quit. No more taking home stray cabbages, no more lofty dreams of non-dairy creamy coleslaw. From now on I buy my coleslaw at the deli counter.
And now I have to burn some seriously smelly candles in my kitchen. As Manatee told me when he walked into the kitchen tonight, cabbage smells like fart.
I wanted to add that I married a saint. Manatee is claiming that he likes my coleslaw better than his mother's.
I am pretty sure he is lying.
But it is awfully sweet, isn't it?
I have to admit- the coleslaw was pretty good the next day.
I am still not sure how eager I will be to make coleslaw again…