I have a soft place in my heart for hot pockets. Before we started dating, Nick induced me to see the movie Jumper with him for two dollars and a hot pocket.
And even before that, Nick first heard my (admittedly terrible) story telling skills in action when I told him a long story that ends with a nice gas station attendant yelling out the door at my friend Elliott, “You forgot your pocket!” Elliott collected his pocket, but the happy ending didn’t satisfy Nick, who proclaimed the story inadequate on the spot.
These pockets were far simpler than that story. Jazzed up with kale and tons of onions.
And with some mini-pizzas on the side, for good measure.