In Which I Prove I am My Father’s Daughter

During my last few days in Chicago I decided that I wanted a cheese plate. This is significant mostly in that I would constantly make fun of my Dad for always having a cheese plate as an appatizer. But I had some cheese left over from what I call a “Farmer’s Market Lunch” a while back (more on that in a future post) and I didn’t want it to go bad.

On the way home from church my last weekend in town I stopped by Pastoral, a Bread, Cheese and Wine Shop in my neighborhood. I was imediately overwhelmed by the options. I just kind of stood next to the cheese counter with my baguette and looked needy. The man behind the counter asked if I would like to try the wine and cheese pairing of the day. Why yes thank you, I would.

A bit of confusion at the register, a girl asking me where I got the dress I made, and a short walk later I was in my kitchen slicing bread. Resulting in this picture which proves, in a roundabout way, that I am my Father’s daughter. Funny that it takes cheese to prove that.

Happy Father’s Day Dad!

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