She tried to pardon our dinner

For our first date, she suggested a public holiday cooking class. I'm a guy who considers adding parsley a personality trait, so I was excited to learn something. At our station, she took one look at the turkey breast and opened a folder. She'd brought a ceremonial pardon. Not a protest. Not a dietary concern. She wanted the instructor to acknowledge her "executive authority" over dinner. The instructor offered us mushrooms instead. She said substitutions couldn't happen until the turkey received due process. Then she draped a dish towel over my shoulders and appointed me chief justice. I removed it. She appointed a pepper grinder. While everyone else made gravy, she attempted to stamp a cranberry with a wax seal. She asked me to film her speech in portrait mode "for the archives." I switched stations and made a very nice mushroom tart. She said I'd betrayed the administration. The pepper grinder declined to comment.