One day, I asked my mom for a recipe to impress my boyfriend. When he took the first bite, his face twisted in a grimace. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, “but what did you put in this?” I was mortified.
I called my mom to figure out what went wrong, and she started laughing, “Did you use the spice jar with the faded label?” she asked. I admitted I had, and she said, “That’s not nutmeg—it’s cinnamon.” We ended up ordering pizza.
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