I started this year with a few resolutions. The weird thing is … I made them for other people.
I told dependants #1 & 2 they were going to learn a few more cooking skills than just how to push down the toaster and peel a banana. They were each going to take turns making one meal a week for the whole family.
The unmitigated joy I expected to leap onto their features wasn’t as evident as I’d hoped. Where was the gratitude for the huge favor I was bestowing upon them?
Dependant #1 wasn’t terribly fussed, as she already possesses baking skills that far surpass mine. This wouldn’t drain off too much energy or put her into an intellectual fog.
Dependant #2 displayed a face that suggested we’d sever his left big toe and shove it up his right nostril. I was caught off-guard, but persevered.
Saturday night came, and after watching him select his recipe from the Jamie Oliver Italy cookbook by randomly opening it to some page in the middle and tossing it close to my grocery list, I prepared for a rough hour in the kitchen.
The ingredients on the counter, the open, ready cookbook and the encouraging cheerleading routine I did ending with a flying Dutchman and piece of broken crockery did nothing to alter the sour milk disposition on the face of my new chef.
I made a few “helpful” suggestions—all greeted with a look that demanded I go take another flying leap—and then quietly skulked off to feed the sheep. At least the bouncers in the barn would be pleased to see me.
When I returned thirty minutes later, I did not smell burnt food, nor the scent of upheaval. Garlic slithered through the air, along with the chef’s announcement of dinner.
I looked to the face of Sir Sackier, who smiled serenely from the couch. I’d expected to see claw marks on his face, or a trail of blood leading back to the kitchen. Instead, I was handed a dish that held a small mound of heaven by a smug young chef.
Spaghetti alla trapanese.
(click here for the recipe and a slice of cloud nine)
Now don’t forget to head on over to the main post (here) to see what I’m bletherin’ on about this week. And check out what we’re talkin’ bout down at the pub (here) too.
4 thoughts on “Who woulda thunk it?”
Shelly, I’m sitting here LMAO as I know Sir Sackier very well and any phone call with him has me in stitches. Your blog reads as a cross between Green Acres and John Mellencamp’s Small Town (only in reverse — as you are from the small town and married a city boy…).
Love the writing style and sense of humor (I see the good Sir has rubbed off on you as well). I’ll be back periodically when I can use a good laugh.
Nicely done! Your children will thank you one day as I have thanked my mother many times over for same.
Thanks, Gary. I’m glad to hear my master plan comes with proof in the proverbial pudding. Your mum must have been one smart cookie. (Okay, sorry about all the food puns, but I relish the fact that I’m on the right track. Oops, again, sorry!) 😉
You just could not resist banging the pots and pans, could you? Mother (a.k.a. Ice Queen as named by a younger sibling, with her tacit approval no less) allowed me to help when younger bother (a.k.a. brother) and father were esconsced in front of some game involving a leather ball (I understand there are many of these … LOL). When first married years ago, my then new bride (now ex, but that is another story) on the first Thanksgiving asked (e.g. we chose the same grad school …very small apartment in Berkeley CA) … where I wanted to go out to eat? Out to eat … on Thanksgiving? Not that there was a lack of many international choices along with a plethera of flower petal pedling sidewalk cafes, but … seriously … Thanksgiving … where would it be without a slowcooked turkey with homemade stuffing. I cooked a full Thanksgiving meal in a little galley kitchen and it was lovely. Long story shortened … your children will be light years ahead when they know how to cook, clean, do laundry/dishes, sew on the odd button, and basically take care of themselves. Life has innumerable twists and turns and … chuckle … rarely ends up the way think it will. Oh, I should mention that Ice Queen retired after 40 years in the public education system (12th grade english/literature teacher and as they say locally, mean as a “stripped snake” … said with love) and she had heard it all in terms of excuses well before we were ready to try our hand at same … yep … it was not pretty, and I am thankful everyday for that! So, continue stirring the pot with your children …you are on the right pate’.