Fondue or...Fon-don't!

Tonight I got an email from Ben saying that for dinner we were going to have...fondue. Fondue! For dinner! And I thought, "Oh dear. This won't end well."

Let me preface...

Historically, we have NOT been so good with the fondue. In fact, we still crack occasional jokes about our first married Valentine's day...the one where we decided to take our new Crate and Barrel wedding gift for a spin and ended up causing a near-four-alarm fire in our tiny Lincoln Park apartment. And then had to order a pizza that WAS NOT EVEN HEART-SHAPED.

This Valentine's day, we dared to try our fondue luck again, with a few precautions. First and foremost, we upgraded to a seemingly indestructible cast iron fondue contraption. Second, we wisely chose to forgo the hot oil and stick to some basic melted chocolate and strawberries. Third, we tested our smoke alarms and dressed head-to-toe in fireproof clothing. And hey, it didn't turn out half bad. High five!

The next morning Jack spied the fondue set on the kitchen counter and was all, "What's THAT?" And somehow, since we already had a random box of fondue swiss in the cupboard (bought on a whim at World Market a while back), Ben ended up promising Jack we'd have fondue for dinner this week. Not a bad idea, actually, since our little starving artist will actually condescend to eat almost anything if it's ON A STICK.

By the time I got home, the boys had been to the store to buy bread and apples for our dipping pleasure, and Ben was bringing the swiss to a simmer. That's when we casually glanced at the box and noticed, in fine but clear print, this little detail: "Best if consumed by October 2008."

F&#K!

People, this is the kind of moment when you find out just what kind of parent you are. Do you pitch the fondue, offer up a salmonella-free, whole wheat PB&J, and risk a tantrum of biblical proportions? Or do you pretend you didn't see the expiration date on the box, smile and just serve the damn cheese?

I admit it. We're cowards. We served the cheese. (I mean, I've been using the same pot of Vick's vapo-rub since 1997 with no harm done. Those expiration dates are just GUIDELINES.)

Jack was delighted, carefully dipping his individual skewers of bread and apples into the warm, gooey substance. We watched, and waited. One by one, he arranged them on his plate. And then he raised a cheesy apple to his lips and took his first bite. No reaction. As he continued to chew, we relaxed. See? The cheese is FINE. I mean, cheese sold in a box never really expires.

That's when he stopped chewing, leaned forward, and projectile heaved the masticated bite back onto his plate and looked at us like we were strangers, not to be trusted.

Whoops.

I acted fast, quickly rustling up some pineapple chunks, four strawberries, a slice of pound cake and a few hunks of dark chocolate. Moments later we had ourselves a delicious dessert fondue. For dinner. It was quite tasty....and the kid LOVED it.

So there you have it. I was wrong.

Fondue night DID end well, after all.