Here is a typical conversation at the Hilton house:
St. Bob, Richie, and I are sitting at the kitchen island enjoying dessert, when Richie calls his sister, Nicole. He asks what she’s doing, then turns to me and says, “She’s making chard brownies.”
I swallow my piece of coconut cream pie and ask, “Why would anyone want to char brownies?”
He tells her I’ve asked this, and I can hear her voice through the phone, saying, “No; chard brownies.”
“You do realize this is a homonym, right?” Richie says. By now we all realize that my organic/locally grown/traceable daughter meant chard, not charred. But I cannot imagine why anyone would want to put chard in an otherwise delightful treat. It seems even worse than charring one.
Finally I decide she’s just ultra-organized, and she’s already working on April Fool’s Day ideas.