He says, “You cooking liver? Y’all don’t know how to cook liver.”
Really?
Don’t ever tell me that I don’t know how to do anything that involves using kitchen utensils and fire.
He says, “Y’all Jamaicans don’t know how to cook liver. Yall cook it so much till it taste like rubber.”
Now he really wanted me to slap him. First of all, I ain’t “y’all Jamaicans” and secondly, have you even tasted my liver?
“So how exactly do you like your liver?”
He says, “you gotta bread it and ……”
That was it, say no more….I GOT THIS!!!!
The nerve of him running his mouth about me and my beef liver. I had to shut him up once and for all. Does this man even know who I am? Does he even understand the craftiness of this domestic goddess when I step foot in my sanctuary. How dare he!
Me? Not know how to cook liver?
Ooh I’m so disgusted just thinking about that statement.
I just had to show him.
Now, wherever you went and tasted liver, I bet it wasn’t half as tender, or even close to beings as flavorful, or highly seasoned as my smothered beef liver.
Now there!
Just shut up now!
Eat and be merry.
Lick your lips.
Lick your fingers.
Beg for seconds.

No you can’t have anymore.

Never underestimate the powers of Ange’luscious…
Hmmmmhhhnnnn….getting me started…
Exhale baby…..
What shall I cook next?