The SO mentioned Saturday that we were invited to a picnic on Sunday.

On Sunday as he was running around between acting in a play and tearing down the set. He stopped home to change his clothes. As he was literally walking out the door he turned around and said, “What are we taking to the picnic?” 

I stared at him. This had not been mentioned before. It hadn’t come up when we discussed the grocery list that morning. It hadn’t been mentioned when I left to go to the grocery store. We’ve been on a mostly liquid diet for a month. He knows we don’t have picnic food in the house. At that point he bolted.

Fine, I can make a pasta salad. I just needed to run to the store. I had about an hour. I grabbed my purse and ran out the door. Then I came to a screeching halt when I saw that he had rearranged the cars to get the truck out and had parked me in!

Ok, it was time for Iron Chef Heather. I looked around the kitchen. I had a basket of not quite ripe peaches. Peach cobbler came to mind. I found a recipe online

Preheat oven to 375. Put 1/2 cup butter in a 13×9 pan in the oven until it is melted.
Mix 1 cup sugar, 1 cup flour, 1 T baking powder, and 1 cup milk.
Pour this over melted butter. Do not stir.
Score the skin of the peaches. Blanch peaches in boiling water for one minute and then submerge in ice bath. Peel off the skins. Slice up 4 cups of peaches.
Mix the peaches, 1 cup of sugar, and 1 T lemon juice in a sauce pan until they boil, stirring constantly.
Pour over batter.
Bake for 40 minutes.

Magically the batter rises to the surface and makes a very good cobbler.

At this point the SO strolled back in. I explained the error of his ways. He said that he gave me plenty of time to make something. He is not dead because I’m a nice person.

By the way, the cobbler was devoured but it wasn’t a potluck afterall so all this brain stress he put me through was not even necessary. Â