Ｉ ｎｅｖｅｒ ｍｅｌｔｅｄ ｔｈｅ ｓｐａｔｕｌａ， Ｉ didn’t ever really enjoy the part where I ｈａｄ ｔｏ ｍｅｌｔ ｓｔｕｆｆ ａｎｄ ｋｅｅｐ ｉｔ ａｔ ｔｈｅ ｒｉｇｈｔ ｔｅｍｐｅｒａｔｕｒｅ ｉｎ ｏｒｄｅｒ ｆｏｒ ｉｔ ｔｏ ｔｕｒｎ ｏｕｔ ａｌｒｉｇｈｔ．
My brother would not eat my cooking for years. Why? Because I accidentally tried to kill him once.
I was 12-years-old, and I was in charge. My mom and my aunt had gone out for a little while, and I was left to watch my brother and cousin. We were hungry, so we brainstormed ideas about foods we could eat. We raided the pantry. We were out of chips. The fruit was a bit squishy. No one wanted canned vegetables.
Then we saw it. We had a box of magnificent puffed rice cereal. We had glorious marshmallows. Wonder of wonders, we had butter! Yes, we had the makings of Rice Krispie Treats!
The boys were too young to use the stove, so they pulled chairs up so they could see the preparation. I placed the butter in the pot and began to stir with a rubber spatula. The heat may…
View original post 456 more words