Poppy strikes again: Husband spends two days baking a phenomenal chicken and leek pie. It had three different types, a sauce that had slowly simmered and infused over 24hrs and was topped with crispy pastry etched with “Clio” written on the top.
It tasted better than it looked, but the best part was, it was so big that there was a second meal for the whole family for Sunday lunch. I dreamt of this pie – Miss 3 and Miss 1 kids both smashed their dinner, Husband high-fiving himself – great moment! It was carefully covered and popped securely in the outside fridge out of harm’s way and temptation.
Sunday morning outside, outside to put on a load of laundry…… Poppy is wobbling. Obese even. Fridge door open. Pie dish on floor of laundry. Pie destroyed.
I cried. Sobbed.
In her own way she is amazing – but truly, not the pie.
Maybe she was teaching us a lesson…..When the meal is THAT good (and there are clearly no scraps spared), cut the pooch her own piece of pie.
