THE NEST IS FILLED AGAIN

Once or twice a year, #1 Son, returns to the nest from sunny California for the holidays or a wedding. This year is no different, and Mamma is all in a flutter. TLW (The Little Woman) has decided to make, or should I say have me make all his favorite meals. Fortunately for me he was a picky eater, so there are only two meals he really liked.

The first meal TLW decided I should make (She may be little but she packs a lot of influence) is “Steak Pizziaola” a culinary treat of great calories that will leave one in great proportions. This dish is to be followed by “French Chicken”, which must have with it certain traditional trimmings like corn and rice. Very French, no?

As I sat this morning, viewing the History Channel with a cup of coffee, the phone rings and who is it but the big bird, TLW! It seems that she had forgotten to mention to me that we needed to make the corn and rice this evening, since the chicken dish would be on the menu. What does this mean? It means that I the great provider, the hunter and farmer, would search the fields and forests, to provide for the nest. First I would visit my vineyard (the liquor store) and bring in one bottle of white wine to cook with, then into the fields (the freezer) for the corn and finally the great forest itself, (the supermarket) for the rice.

There are many hidden dangers that I face daily, now that I am retired. One of them is TLW’s memory when it comes to old recipes that she hasn’t made in years because of the fat content. For instance, she gave me a recipe from her memory for steak pizzaiola that did not come out quite right like she used to make it. There wasn’t enough sauce for the dish of spaghetti that comes as a side dish. I know TLW to be extremely honest, and would never sabotage me (I think), but something went wrong! One would think maybe she thought that if I didn’t make it as well as she did, #1 Son would say: “Good, not as good as Mom’s, but OK.” Now I’m not suggesting that, but one could draw conclusions. Nah, she teaches little children about God.

Tonight, I have another recipe on the run that she drew up for me before leaving for work, and said: “Here, make this.” (She tends to be exact.) The chicken recipe will not be as good as hers, I know it, I will go to the gallows in my son’s mind, but orders are orders.