Oh wait....my flan story.
So back when I was married the ex was going thru that whole "what am I going to do with my life" finding herself moment and decided she wanted to be like those guys on the show cake boss. I was 100% for it. Srsly, who wouldn't want to eat cake all day?
So she got this flan recipe off the internet. She made it, and it was amazing. Like fucking amazing. Like your running your finger in the bowl amazing. She told everyone in her family her flan was a success and rightly so.
Like two months later, her family has a get together, and if you know Mexican families, they usually have them once a week. This was a big one as members were coming in from the motherland. It was a big deal.
Ex's mom says my ex should make her wonderful flan. I agreed.
Day of the party, ex is putting the finishing touches on the flan she made. It wasn't small, it was this huge pan of flan. When she went to get ready I couldn't resist grabbing a spoon and getting a little taste.
The problem was...it tasted like shit. Like, it was nasty. Like she used salt instead of sugar. It looked like flan, but tasted like garbage.
I told her this and after she started talking out her neck about me eating the family flan, I just shoved a spoon full in her mouth. Then she got the point.
She had no time to make a new one and we couldn't bring a store made flan to a family party. You just don't do shit like that with a Mexican family.
So we took it. We're driving to the ghetto thinking of something we can do because the abuela even asked if we're bringing the flan and everyone wants to try it. I'm thinking hell, I'm the guy bartending this party I'll just get everyone drunk and they sure as shit don't care what the flan tastes like. Then I remembered the entire family was power drinkers and "Kevin, this margarita is too weak, put more booze in it for me" I'd something I'm going to hear the entire time I'm there.
This happened in the winter, and the ex is sweating on the car ride. Like trickling sweat.
So we get to moms house and the first thing Mom does is puts the flan in the fridge. I'm think yes, I have a little more time to think of something.
Big party, mariachi band, cowboy hats, huge.
It starts getting to flan time. So I grab the flan and run to the bathroom. I flush that fucking thing down the toilet, like four flushes.
I come out the bathroom and the ex's mom sees me with the empty flan pan. I just said "I love flan" and got this look of such hatred and disgust from her I thought I was going to get stabbed. They told the ex I ate the entire pan in Spanish then told her to make me walk home because I ruined desert.
But if they only knew....
