Let's talk fairy bread.
Cause I'm wiiiiild and crazy like that.
Ask Hubby and he'll tell you that I've got 'book smarts' and he's got 'good smarts'.
He continuously astounds me with his real-world solutions to real-world problems.
Whether we're renovating, fixing yet another breakdown or trying to avoid further debt, Hubby always thinks outside the square and finds innovative
(and sometimes completely unsafe)
ways to go about things.
(I'm going to overlook the fact that he can't seem to dispose of empty packaging or pick his clothes up off the floor for the sake of painting him in the best light here.)
Last weekend Hubby's resourcefulness came to the fore again.
In a less 'hardware' style though.
I have been a teacher who loves kids for a number of years now.
I know fairy bread.
I make fairy bread.
Hubby assumes that fairy bread is literally that
- and it appears on platters to take to parties thanks to the fairies.
On Sunday, he walked in as Magoo and I were beginning to make fairy bread for a party.
He decided he wanted to join us. Maybe his iPhone was charging or something.
We had a family production line going on and I began
buttering the bread (right to the edges, of course).
Hubby proceeded to fill a shallow dish with hundreds and thousands and help Magoo to
dip the buttered (right to the edges) bread face down in the "sminkles".
Well, I'll be damned.
I. DID. NOT. KNOW. THAT. WAS. HOW. YOU. MADE. FAIRY. BREAD.
I've been sprinkling the hundreds and thousands onto the buttered (right to the edges)bread using spoons, shakers, fingers and strainers for years.
Making quite the mess in the process.
Am I completely alone in my ignorance?
Is it worth blaming my Irish heritage or sheltered upbringing
with a mother who never made fairy bread?
While you're here ...
Thank you for your comments on Tuesday's Baker's Delight post.
The winners/grinners of the $10 vouchers are :
Jane from Planet Baby
Julie from Mama of Two Boys
Corinne from Daze of My Life.