|This looks good right? Yeah, not so much.|
Sure enough, the pesto sauce was terrible. I won't go into any more detail about what went wrong, but I was the lucky one to take the bite and instantly realize that it was just plain bad. I warned W and he tentatively took a bite to find out what I was talking about. Yup, bad.
To at least save the gnocchi, I just rinsed the pesto off each of the gnocchi balls and saved it for later. W got out the popcorn popper and guess what we ended up having for dinner? Good thing we love popcorn and practically eat it every day anyway.
The next day my husband started rustling around in the kitchen while I read a book in the living room. This always makes me suspicious.
Me: "What are you doing?"
W: Don't worry about it. I'm fixing something."
Ten minutes later...
Me: "Wow! This looks amazing!"
W: "Of course it’s amazing. I’m Italian and I can cook!”
(I grab a fork as fast as possible.)
W: "You can put this in your blog. I call it Rescue Gnocchi."
(We both take big bites and chew in satisfaction.)
W: "Here's the instructions -- Skillet. Olive Oil. Garlic. Tomatoes. Whatever those chivey things are. Medium Heat. Gnocchi...add gnocchi half-way through the cooking process. Serve."
I mean, the man can cook. Simple as that.