I like rice. This is not news. I almost always have rice ready to prepare. I will eat it plain, for this makes me happy. Often, I will get creative with something from our decently-stocked spice drawer.
Usually, I have some idea of what I'm going for, and this guides the choice. Sometimes, I know the taste of what I want, and I
I was enjoying my bowl of rice, and reading some sheet music, when Santas came into the kitchen.
Santas, being Santas, took some of my rice without asking a) for permission, or b) what was in it.
"Yeaugh!" she declared after making a distasteful expression, bolting for the refrigerator and chasing it with apple juice.
"Paprika." I considered the bowl a moment, before returning to my reading. "And salt, I think."
She glared at the bowl, offended. "Whatever happened to curry?"
I froze. I looked up at her, mid-bite. "That's what I wanted!!"
Mystery solved.
Of course, Santas later came back to the bowl to mooch again. I watched her, amused and fascinated. "You declare that what I have created is most foul, you are in the process of making your own food - yet you keep coming back to scavenge mine."
Mouth full, "Uh huh."
And in case anyone was wondering, rice and paprika is definitely not the same as rice and curry.
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