When I was trying to figure out what to make for our Christmas dinner, I polled my kids and my dad. Other than Dad, no one had an opinion. Dad wanted baby back ribs. That was easy enough and we hadn't had them for a while so easy peasy.
I picked up the ribs while at Wegmans - taking care to check the use by date to ensure they'd be fine for Christmas. They were.
If you've been following along at all with my 2024, you know that there's a big ol "except" coming.
Yesterday morning, in between throwing waffles on the iron, I opened up the ribs to peel off the back membrane and...they did not smell right. But maybe I was over reacting. So I called hubby over - "Smell these. Do they smell right?"
He sniffed. "I'm sure it's fine."
I hesitated, but it was Christmas and we needed food and...okay fine. So he seasoned them up and threw them on the smoker.
We went about the rest of our festive breakfast and present opening.
And then, it was time to pull the ribs off, sauce, and wrap them. And hubby brought them in and waved me over. "Do these smell right?"
No. No they did not.
Not being fans of food poisoning, we wrapped them up and into to the trash can they went. Hubby and I looked at each other and burst into song, a la the Chinese servers in A Christmas Story, "Fa-rah-rah-rah-rah."
That left the question...what would Christmas dinner be?
Digging through the freezer, the option became hot dogs or chicken breasts.
Shockingly (ha, not so), no one wanted hot dogs for Christmas.
In the end, we were able to thaw the chicken and season it up in time to grill them and have our late lunch/early dinner as previously planned. And the chicken tasted good, even if it was a little more boring than we wanted for said festive meal.
I'm ready for 2024 to end. Obviously, on one can promise 25 will be any better, but at this point, even if not, I'll be glad to see the back side of this year.
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