My dad walks into the kitchen and I’m cutting up this fudge on a cutting board and placing it in a Ziplock container for the fridge. He peers over, grabs one and asks, “Can I eat this?”. I inform him that he can, so he subsequently takes a bite half the size of the piece of fudge, starts chewing and then nonchalantly asks, “What am I eating?”.
I roll my eyes and excitedly answer peanut butter fudge with Nutella swirl on top! He looks at the remaining half of his fudge and says “Wow, holy crap”.
This just goes to show how anesthetized my family has become to my constant baking. At this point it’s just expected – when they come into the kitchen, there will be baked goods and they will probably be worth trying. I just find it funny that my dad ate a sizable piece of fudge before even knowing what it was. Maybe it’s a compliment? Probably just the fact that my dad doesn’t really care what he eats, he just eats. I don’t know how we’re related in that regard.