Lots of Laughs

A cooking blunder goes down in party history.

Sometimes it’s better to arrive empty-handed.

Eileen, brand new to the subdivision, was hosting an open house one Saturday. “Bring your specialty,” she said.

It was my chance to make a memorable first impression!

Aluminum mixing bowls glistened on my counter. I dumped in the ingredients for my famous mushroom caps: spicy sausage, bread crumbs, mozzarella and onion. I stirred like a madman. Then, whap! The bowl flew out of my hands and sailed across the kitchen, landing upside down on my clean floor.

I hesitated for a second, scooped up the portion nearest the top of the heap and plunked it back in another bowl. Ta-da! Ten-second rule, right?

That evening at Eileen’s,

I set my pan front and center of all the other appetizers. Partygoers snagged them as fast as kids in front of a dessert tray. I spied my husband with a mushroom cap perched on a napkin in his hand. I flagged him to come over and watched as he took his first big, juicy bite. Then he crossed his eyes and yanked out a long blond hair from his teeth. He said, “They are delicious, but I found a few hairs.” WHAT?!?

At that same moment, I spotted Eileen about 5 feet away. I watched in horror as she spit out a mushroom cap.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” I said, bolting across the room, grabbing the half-empty pan.

At home, I held the caps under the kitchen light to confirm my suspicions. Like a farmer examining his newly planted field, I stared at an uneven crop of hair, waving at irregular levels.

Now I consider store-bought as good as homemade. Nothing beats a day-old pound cake.