my house of cards: tantrum

Armed with cameras, friends can defect into the not-friend-at-all category without warning. At least temporarily. Until the camera is put down and stepped away from. At Supperbridge®, our small collective of bridge-playing amateur chefs, most recently hosted by the little self, I pitched a fit that was regrettably caught on film. I needed to stop with the learning of so many card-game rules. And I needed to stop immediately.

Given that, throwing myself onto the table seemed like just the ticket. What can I say? A girl can only handle so many trumps, rubbers, suits, and bids before she just needs to flip her hand and demand we all just move instantly and without argument on to dessert and coffee or continue playing over her dead body.

Hopefully the forced dessert made up for the antics: amaretto zabaglione with strawberries in a balsamic-black pepper sauce. Before that was herbed rack of lamb, tarragon mash, a now-standby beet salad with homemade almond butter, and finally a nice French rosé for the kids. Ply loved ones with liquor and they'll tolerate just about anything.