Farewell

My grandmother came to visit today. She wanted to see me before I turned into a Popsicle. Always an interesting time with her. (And she is following this blog, so I write this at my own risk.) My mother, grandmother, and I (my sister was working, my father was watching his Christmas pudding...more about the latter later) enjoyed a nice afternoon together. At lunch, I tried to explain the difference between frittata and fajita and failed. (Grandma, I suggest you Google these terms.)
Later in the evening, after my grandmother left and my sister came home from work, my sister's boyfriend came over and the five of us enjoyed the Christmas pudding my father prepared. Yes, Christmas pudding. For all those who are wondering why my family was eating Christmas pudding, I have no satisfactory answer. I think you just have to meet my father. Maybe that could help clarify things. Or make you more confused. Not really sure.
You should also meet my mother if you truly want to understand the next part of this post.
The recipe recommended using alcohol to flame the pudding. Why not Majorska? My mother had purchased this vodka, not knowing how truly terrible it is (unless you happen to be making punch or jungle juice). Ah, poor mother. Well, no one was going to drink it, so why not use it to flame the pudding? It flames well, I can tell you that. My father was also a little generous, so it kept flaming. The sides of the pudding were a little burned. We eventually moved the pudding to a second plate, leaving the alcohol burning on the first.
The pudding was truly delicious, except for the bottom, which happened to taste strongly of Majorska.

A sweet farewell.