A True American Horror Story (aka, The Night I Attempted Naked Style)

Assuming makes an ass out of u and me.

When Allie told me about this gnudi thing, I was pretty excited.  No fuss, simple food that provided me a shred of hope that at least one child may have a little spinach.

What I got, was a night of terror that no one should ever endure!  (Don’t let this deter you from making the recipe, read on).

It all started out harmlessly, as most horror stories do.  We were just a cute little happy family.  My husband is in India for work, so I thought it would be fun to cook a nice meal, the kids were excited at the prospect of ball-shaped food, life was good.  (Experienced horror fans would be saying, don’t go in the basement…don’t!  Or, don’t cook, doooon’t!)

I made the spinach, put all the ingredients together, and oh look! How cute, my 4 year old wants to help, awwww!
Then it was time to make the balls.  Something wasn’t right.  The mixture was really loose.  How do you make balls out of this?  I figured there must have been something wrong with the recipe.  Maybe Allie left something out, or told me to put too much milk in… hmm.  I added all the flour I could, but I was low on flour.  I added 10 times more Parmesan.  It got a little thicker, but it took a MILLION YEARS to make half the mixture into balls.  They were sticky and weird-shaped.  WHAT IS HAPPENING?????

My balls are weird looking.

I became angry.  The children took notice, and saw it as an opportunity to do formerly forbidden things:

Eating my block of parmesan.

Playing with sharp utensils.

“Why did I sign up for this?” I began to chant.  “Figures, an easy recipe would turn out like this for meeee!”

After an hour of desperately trying to make balls, I flung them into the boiling water.  It got really ugly, really fast.


Oh my god, gross!

Fuck it, I’ll throw it into a pan of butter, maybe it’ll turn into something omelet-like.



I threw it all away.  I breathed.   Chicken pot pie saved the day.


So, what the F happened, you ask?  Let me preface this by saying, I in no way blame Allie for this, but the way her recipe was written confuzzled the poop out of me, and caused me to assume there was ¼ cup of MILK in the recipe not ¼ cup (+3 tbsps) of FLOUR.  There’s no milk in this f-ing recipe!!!!!  GAAAAAHHH!  I am an asshole!  I LITERALLY spent an hour and half cooking this on a weeknight, with no husband to help, and I had to throw it away.

When will I stop being a fuckup, you ask? “Nevaaaah!”, I say.

Update: I just re-read Allie’s post, and it’s ½ cup + 3 tbsps flour, not ¼.  Do you think I need ritalin?


3 thoughts on “A True American Horror Story (aka, The Night I Attempted Naked Style)

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