Screw the build-up, there's enough of that in this story anyway. I'm going to start with the climax: a giant fountain explosion of sticky grape soda spewing all over my kitchen, behind the refrigerator, covering shoes and clothes and photos and the floor even the goddamn butter dish. Everywhere. And Darling Kai literally mopping the ceiling and getting so overwhelmed with my insane, mad scientist food experiments that he had to excuse himself to the shower to wash off the stickiness and calm his nerves. And he banned any food projects involving fermentation "until you actually know something about it." Touché, my dear, touché. One explosion is a learning curve, two is a habit. I think he may now have PTSD as regards the kitchen, which he has started referring to as "the war zone". This puts a serious damper on our unspoken arrangement about who does the dishes. (I'll give you a hint: it's not me.)
Yes friends, this is the side of food blogging that no one actually writes about...the projects gone horribly awry....the experiments that turn out mediocre, un-photographable or just plain gross. Because here's the saddest part about the grape soda saga: it was supposed to be delicious....effervescent, sweet, bubbly and wonderfully wholesome. But the part that I could salvage just tasted like watered down, slightly fizzy, boiled grape juice. In other words, not at all worth mopping the ceiling and having a kitchen that will probably smell like stale fruit-roll-ups for the next two weeks. Don't believe all the food bloggers out there who only show their professionally lit, perfectly arranged cupcakes, posting recipes and witty dialogue that makes it all seems so easy...liars! Let my sticky walls and shell-shocked boyfriend serve as a much-needed reality check. And also as a crash course in legal explosives.
Defeatedly,
Jenny "The Soda Bomber" Irene
Yes friends, this is the side of food blogging that no one actually writes about...the projects gone horribly awry....the experiments that turn out mediocre, un-photographable or just plain gross. Because here's the saddest part about the grape soda saga: it was supposed to be delicious....effervescent, sweet, bubbly and wonderfully wholesome. But the part that I could salvage just tasted like watered down, slightly fizzy, boiled grape juice. In other words, not at all worth mopping the ceiling and having a kitchen that will probably smell like stale fruit-roll-ups for the next two weeks. Don't believe all the food bloggers out there who only show their professionally lit, perfectly arranged cupcakes, posting recipes and witty dialogue that makes it all seems so easy...liars! Let my sticky walls and shell-shocked boyfriend serve as a much-needed reality check. And also as a crash course in legal explosives.
Defeatedly,
Jenny "The Soda Bomber" Irene
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