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It's still Dad's birthday. I can feel him. I swear. He's waiting for me to have a piece of all-choco cake in his honor. And I plan to, thanks to Joe. No, I didn't bake. But I cooked. Heart healthy, to compensate for sinful.
Without a clue as to 'Why?', I thought of Italian Wedding Soup, today. So, to the batch of turkey-veggie soup that I whipped up yesterday, I added little turkey meatballs that were first baked in the oven. And pasta. Hey, don't knock it. There's tons of vitamins processed into the thick base. Escarole floating on top of it might damage Joe's psyche.
Maybe next time, though.
