It is now becoming a habit that my husband is in charge of the cooking on Sundays. As much as I like to cook, there is nothing quite as blissful as sitting in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine in hand, enjoying the smells coming from the kitchen and counting my blessings.
He is a fantastic cook, especially when it comes to no-frills comfort food. Nobody can make a Dutch meatball as well as him, and his succulent rosemary/lemon chicken is the stuff dreams are made of. A few weeks ago, however, the boy surprised me.
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