My Tongue's Burning
The boy, the bright boy, he who loves to cook and loves the spices, made ravioli tonight. We thought we'd gotten rid of the spices that could cause Rosie and me grief (we are extremely sensitive and our tongues get sores from spicy or acidic foods). But dear gods, we missed one and didn't count on him pouring a liberal third cup (at least) of the above "herbs" as he kept insisting he'd used. What herbs, I asked him, hanging my tongue out my mouth and panting, had made my tongue feel like it was bursting into flames?
"Herbs! Just herbs!" he kept insisting. I finally, coating my tongue with tums to put out the fire on it and down my throat, hollered at him to show me the herbs!
What had been a near full bottle was at least two inches less full. Dear gods in heaven. We had ravioli with our "herbs." On the plus side, Lily and Bobby loved it. Rosie and I, once our tongues could handle it, dined on garlic bread. My chest is still burning, but we learned a new lesson. Even the relatively safe herbs and spices can be a problem when moderation isn't observed.
Crafted for your viewing consumption by Kim Wombles