She opens the door and her nose is assaulted by the smell of – bacon, at eight o'clock in the evening?

"What are you cooking?"

"Halushki," Perry calls from the kitchen.

Well that's extraordinarily helpful, telling her exactly what he's concocting in there –

She ventures into the kitchen – a place she normally wouldn't set foot into. The extent of her cooking skills is limited only to the number of take out menus she has on hand, pancakes, and spaghetti (sauce premade).

Perry glances at her over his shoulder, wearing his apron and tending both a skillet and a pot on the stove top (surely it's witchcraft). Beside him there's a plate of greasy chunks of bacon drying on some paper towels.

"So what exactly is it that you're making again?"

She peers over his shoulder, making a face at the sight of the cabbage and carrots cooking in the pan.

"Halushki. Egg noodles, bacon, cabbage, onions and carrots."

"Where did you learn to cook this?"

"Everyone in Pittsburgh eats it. This, however, if my grandmother's recipe."

"And it doesn't involve excessive amounts of cooking sherry? Color me shocked."

"Yeah, yeah, you want any?"

She watches as he pours the heavily buttered noodles and bacon over the greasy cabbage and carrots. She hates cabbage, always has – and having it fried? In bacon and butter? She'll have to go back to her lipo doc.

"I'll pass."

***///***///***

He opens the door and his nose is assaulted by the smell of bacon – at eight o'clock in the evening?

What has he done right?

"Is that brinner?"

"Holushki," Perry calls from the kitchen.

"Hulu-ski-what-see?"

"Hoe-looshh-ki."

"What's in it?"

"Bacon, cabbage, onions, carrots and pasta," Perry shrugs, stirring the contents of the cast iron pan. "It's a family recipe. You want any?"

He doesn't like carrots… and he always feels the slightest bit guilty about eating bacon because of the Jewish heritage and all – and oh my god he just put a half stick of butter in the pasta! How is he not a walking heart attack by now?

"I'll try a little bit, I'm not that hungry," He says noncommittally.

He goes an washes up, then manages to get Jack, Jen and Sam (no small feat) cleaned up and at the dinner table, just as Perry is ready to dish.

Perry, Jack, Jen and Sam all dig into their plates eagerly, and he's left to poke around at the weird washed out stuff on his plate. Hesitantly, he puts a forkful in his mouth.

By the time Jen and Sam finish their plates there's nothing left for seconds, he's eaten it all.