I have a secret…
I feel like I really need to get it off my chest, but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone… okay?
Cool. Okay then.
On Thursday Night, my hubby cooked dinner, as he usually does.
The dish he had planned was Pan Fried Chicken Breast, Pumpkin-Potato Mash, Baby Peas and Blackened Mushrooms and Onion.
Not long after he started cooking, he realised we had no butter for the mash potatoes, so he asked me to go down to the local Seven Eleven and pick up a stick of butter.
(Also I might add that the term Seven Eleven is waaaay over generalised, because the corner store in our suburb closes at 9pm. So does our Bottle-O. I suppose it might be 11pm somewhere in the world at that moment… Maybe… Don’t take my word on that because I haven’t checked.)
Anyhow, I jumped in the car and went down to the shop. It is literally a 7 minute walk but I drove because it was dark and cold and I am a sook.
When I got to the shop, I found they only had Dairy Farmers Butter.
When I am at the grocery store, I usually buy the one that comes in the red packet and has a picture of a star on it because that’s the one that my husband prefers to cook with (do you like how technical I am about brands and stuff?).
I stood there, just looking at the fridge for a couple of minutes, willing the red packet to appear before my eyes.
It didn’t appear, so I had to get the Dairy Farmers Butter.
I actually don’t mind supporting Dairy Farmers. I actively try to buy the Dairy Farmers brand of milk over other brands whenever possible. I don’t know how their butter compares to the butter in the red packet. It could be better. It could be worse. I am not technical in the subtle palates of butter. The only thing I really know about butter is that the salt reduced one tastes crap. Stay away from that. (You only make that mistake ONCE peeps!).
The Dairy Farmers Butter was $4.50. For 250 grams. The one in the red packet, is usually about $3.00 for 250 grams.
But I understand. It is a corner store. I am paying for the convenience of them being right there. Coles and Woolies are actually still open. If I wanted to, I could drive to Coles or Woolies and get the damn butter there. But I don’t. Because:
(a) I am lazy and don’t want to drive for an extra 5 minutes and line up at the checkout just for a stick of butter.
(b) I am already at the corner store.
(c) Hubby has already started cooking the dinner so kind of needs me to get home with the butter right now
I get the Dairy Farmers Butter.
But it is not the one in the red packet and its is more than I would like to pay so I am feeling a bit uncomfortable. I wouldn’t say that I am stressed. I am feeling like I need comfort.
It just so happens that to get from the dairy fridge to the counter I have to walk through an aisle of lollies and chocolates.
I hesitate, then hover, in this aisle.
So much chocolatey goodness to choose from.
After looking at the range of decadent delights (and not being able to justify the price for a whole block of chocolate) I decide to choose a Chomp Bar. My plan is to eat it on the way home in the car.
I don’t think I have had a Chomp Bar since I was about 10 years old. They were allowed to sell chocolates at the school tuckshop in those days and a Chomp Bar used to cost 30 cents. I guess inflation has been running rampant over the last 26 years. Chomps are now $1.20 each from the corner store.
I get back to the car and note that the Bottle-O is open and we have no alcohol (except for Cointreau) at home. I am thinking that the weather is cold and if the Bottle-O has Marsala it might be nice to have a bottle of it at home for the occasional warm smooth feeling that it leaves me with.
So I put the butter and the Chomp in the Car and go into the Bottle O. They don’t have any Marsala. So I decide to get a bottle of Merlot on special for $6.99 instead.
I drive home and pull up in the driveway and realise I forgot to eat the bloody Chomp!
I didn’t get a bag at the Bottle-O or at the Corner Store and I didnt take my whole handbag just my purse, so I have nothing to hide the chocolate in so that the kids don’t see it.
So I shove the chocolate down my shirt and walk inside with the butter and the wine.
I open the wine so it can ‘breathe’ and then retreat to my bedroom where I wolf the Chomp down with guilty pleasure.
I hid the wrapper in my bedside table drawer (and it is still there… oops).
Then dinner was ready, so I poured the wine and helped my husband dish it up.
And no one knows my guilty little secret.