I just got home from a cruise, which means I have a mountain of laundry, a thousand unanswered emails, and no one to shape my hand towels into cute little animal figures.
I had one of those Janette Rallison moments on my cruise. Although technically speaking, it wasn’t my fault.
On the first day, the cruise held a welcome barbecue out by the pool. (Loud music, people chatting and laughing.) After I ate dinner, I went back for a brownie and noticed a tub of brown liquid by the brownie plate. Okay, in retrospect the tub of brown liquid was also by the ketchup and mustard, but I was only paying attention to the brownies at that point.
I put a brownie on my plate, pointed to the tub of brown liquid and asked Martino, the guy standing behind said objects, “Is that hot fudge?”
It was, after all, the logical conclusion. Brownies + hot fudge = joy.
Martino nodded and said, “Yes.”
I didn’t take into account that it was noisy outside and English probably wasn’t Martino’s first language. I happily ladled a spoonful of brown liquid onto my brownie.
Again in retrospect, Martino’s startled expression probably should have tipped me off. But no, I walked back to my chair and took a big bite of my brownie. Which was completely covered in barbecue sauce. Then I spit the bite back onto my plate and did a really elegant gagging-wiping-my-tongue-off thing as I tried to get rid of the taste of barbecue and brownie.
So it turns out you can’t mix chocolate with anything and make it taste better.
Martino walked by me a few minutes later, keeping an eye on me like I was clearly crazy.
It was a totally unfair reaction, since he was the one who told me it was hot fudge in the first place. I dub it a Martino moment.
More on the cruise life next blog.
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