I had a lot of fun at a French-themed dinner party Sunday night. We drank Beajolais and Bordeaux Blanc, and Sarah made a cauliflower and caramelized onion tart; Colleen prepared a spinach salad with pears and some kind of delectable blue cheese; we had the loveliest homemade macaroons for dessert...
And I brought Velveeta Shells & Cheese!!!
I thought it was just hilarious (though the host politely refused to put any on her plate--that's ok), and to be perfectly, dreadfully honest with you, I had been fiending for the gooey goodness all day. Sometimes, dear reader, I'll admit that I don't feel like carefully cooking up something marvelous and wholesome and organic and pristine. I developed a taste for Velveeta during the dark days of college, and every now and then I desire to fully balk at my now-oh-so-haute taste and revel in a little dirty, American processed product.
I hope this doesn't make you hate me.
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