Fond of Fondue

Well, I did it. I finally bought a fondue pot. It's all so wholesome, so fresh and earthy. And it's what this family needs. Oh... fondue... you call me to your table of life enhancing experience. And I answer your call.
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Well, I did it. I finally bought a fondue pot.

I was in the Crate & Barrel outlet the other day, and that shiny red fondue pot that usually sells for a cool $50 was marked down to a mere $16. I had to have it. I had to, I tell you. Never mind the fact that my husband Kevin and I keep vowing to lighten our loads. A fondue pot is one of the things my gadget laden kitchen is missing. I missed the whole "Fondue Revolution" and I intend to get in on it, even if I am a late bloomer.

So I giddily slapped down a twenty and brought it home, where it sat on the counter for two days unopened because, dang, now I'm gonna have to melt some cheese or chocolate and we don't have any dipping fruit. We've got a handful of grapes and a rotten banana. No bread. Unless you want to dip rye in pre-grated Mexican blend taco cheese. Kind of Nuevo Jewish Mexican, but still.

Day three, my 14-year-old son, Max, comes downstairs and finally notices it.

"Mom, is that a fondue pot?"

"Why yes! Yes it is!" I proudly exclaim.

"What are we going to do with a fondue pot? What, are we fonduing now? Who fondues anymore? When are we going to fondue?"

So many questions about fondue. So concerned about the state of the Fondue Revolution. Ah, kids.

"Well, you know how we have Taco Tuesday? We could have..."

And then in unison we come to a collective solution...

"FONDUE FRIDAY!"

Yes, I think Fondue Friday will probably last as long as Family Game Night lasted, which was about as long as it took for the board to be upturned, one kid stomping off into the abyss, while the other rolled his eyes, proclaiming that he didn't want to do this in the first place, leaving Kevin and me to open up a bottle of wine and call it a night. A decidedly family-less, game-less night.

Still, the promise of a good fondue lingers in what's left of the summer air. Fondue at twilight on the balcony with friends (after all, there are 8, count 'em EIGHT of those fondue stabby wand things included). Romantic evenings with my beloved, a glass of chardonnay, and a whole lotta cheese dangle somewhere in my future.

I've decided that I'm fond of fondue, even if I've yet to actually experience it. It is a tried and true old world... okay, old American tradition re-appropriated for a hipster generation. Perhaps I could use artisanal cheese, hand tossed bread cubes and organic fruit. Perhaps the cheese could be made from locally sourced, organic, farm raised, sustainable, grass fed goat's milk raised by virgins in a field somewhere in Norway.

It's all so wholesome, so fresh and earthy. And it's what this family needs. We need to step back and smell the gouda, as it were. We need to slow down and partake of Mother Nature's bounty once in awhile.

Oh... fondue... you call me to your table of life enhancing experience. And I answer your call.

Or... I will.

Fondue Friday isn't until tomorrow, and tonight is Take Out Thursday.

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