We have gremlins in the trailer. I'm not talking about the gremlins in our electrical system, although we have more than our share of those. Maybe these are the same gremlins, doing extra mischief in their off-hours when they aren't messing with the wiring.
It all began when my darling wanted to make chili. He has a very specific recipe, with very specific ingredients. He swears he bought the precise canned goods he needed for this dish before we left. (I do mean 'specific': Joan of Arc brand beans, for instance - not Bush's Best, thankyouverymuch, because they don't taste the same.) He swears they were in a bag to be packed. I have no such recollection, but packing can be pretty intense toward departure time. Maybe we'll find them on the garage floor, frozen and then exploded from the intense cold, when we get home.
Recollections or no, we can't find them.
Next up was refried beans. They are a staple in our household: want Mexican? Pull out some salsa, refried beans, maybe some enchilada sauce, and have at it with the meat of choice, tortillas, sour cream, greens, etc.
Nope. No refried beans to be found in the trailer. We've looked everywhere. There are at least 3 cans of assorted enchilada sauce. There are least a dozen pints of salsa we made last fall and packed along. There are at least 4 cans of diced or crushed tomatoes, although they aren't the specific brand he wants for his chili. There are no refried beans. There are plenty of dried beans from which to make refried beans, but one doesn't do that on a moment's notice.
We began to wonder about our packing, or our memories. The plot thickened.
Last night, we wanted something incredibly easy. "Zatarain's!" I yelled. "How about red beans and rice?" Yep, that was it.
I dug through the cupboard until I came to the canister that carries several boxes of Zatarain's New Orleans mixes, and opened it....and found a small bag of brown sugar and a piloncillo.
"We must have gremlins in the cabinets," we agreed. We settled for leftovers.
Today we realized the gremlins give as well as take. There is a mystery bottle of salad dressing...or marinade...or what?... in the refrigerator. He swears it isn't his, because he always makes his salad dressing in the ridged bottle. I swear it isn't mine, because I never use packaged mixes. The picture below shows, from left to right, my most recent salad dressing, the mystery bottle, and his salad dressing. He tried to claim today that it's the leftover marinade from my last citrus chicken. I know it isn't.
Gremlins, I tell you. At least they give back.
