Suzy Correa
Prune Hill – Columbia Summit
I wanted to have a picture-perfect American holiday the first year my soon-to-be German son-in-law came to our house for Christmas.
But I’ve never claimed to be a good cook, so I was understandably nervous.
Honestly, I thought the bird was defrosted when I put it in the oven. OK, it did seem slightly icy, but I was in denial.
I left russet potatoes for my husband to put in at the right time. I figured baked potatoes were a sure thing.
He stayed home to guard the food while the rest of us went off to church. What could go wrong?
I came home and opened the oven to peek at the food. Not only was the bird barely brown, the potatoes had exploded all over the oven walls. I had forgotten to mention piercing them before putting them in to cook.
Mortified and hungry, I tried frying hunks of lukewarm bird which tasted awful.
There was nothing left to do but laugh, eat salad, deviled eggs, rolls and a lot of German candy that he had graciously brought all the way from home.
He was such a good sport, I knew why he was a keeper.