A Very Special Cornbread.

Any EL member can attest to this:

My grandma rules.

It's very important to her to provide for my family. So she cooks everyone food over the weekend and then drives around to everyone's residences (my parents in Long Island, my brother in Manhattan, my place in Brooklyn) and distributes the food, which we lovingly call Grandma Food. She will do this whether we like it or not, so it's best to just embrace it fully, which I do. She's a great cook, and it's nice to eat homecooked Grandma meals every week. Mmm.

This week's Grandma Food package contained her famous spinach. She also made some bacon-wrapped meatloaf and she baked some cornbread. I decided to bring meatloaf and spinach for lunch today. And sure, why not, I'll have some cornbread for breakfast. As I packed it all into my messenger bag today, I noticed that the cornbread had little chocolate chips on top. A slightly quirky Grandma touch, but nothing wrong with that.

Here's when it got bad.

At some point on my subway commute, a small crack opened up in my tupperware. As the refrigerated spinach began to approach room temperature, it releases some juices, which are delicous in almost any situation. Except when the juice leaks out of my lunch and into my cornbread, where it is instantly absorbed.

Dear blogreaders: Chocolate Chip-Spinach Cornbread was my breakfast. It caught me by surprise. I didn't know until I ate it. It was a hugely unpleasant combination of tastes. I'm still shaking. Somebody please help me.