I'm "Mr. Mom" this week, with my wife out of town.
My wife is a very good cook. I enjoy her creations, and
our boys (2 & 4 yrs) will usually eat what she prepares.
I don't mind cooking, but I mostly keep to the basics,
and I sometimes take shortcuts with the recipes.
My wife, knowing my cooking style, and fearing that our
kids would go hungry while she's away was careful to
leave out some recipes, and even shopped for the week.
Monday night was Sauteed Chicken with Lemon and Capers.
It started out OK. Heat some olive oil in the skillet,
add some cloves of garlic... Didn't see those, so I
just threw in a generous spoonful of chopped garlic
from the big jar I found in the fridge. Interrupted
then by the boys who needed some "guidance"... Then...
What's that smell? Oh yeah, the garlic, now somewhat
dark brown. Guess the pan was turned up a little too
high. Oh well, looks OK to me, so I start to throw in
the chicken, realizing then that's it's not quite thawed.
OK, so I put 'em in the microwave for a bit (They're
thawed when the plastic bags explode, right?) then
into the pan with the burned garlic.
After another interruption from the boys, I return to
flip the now slightly "blackened" chicken, and look for
the lemon and capers. Didn't find capers or lemons, but
found one of those little plastic lemon-shaped bottles of
lemon juice, way in the back of the fridge. It looked old,
but lemon juice doesn't go bad, does it? Squirted some in.
Set the table, came back, and decreed the chicken "done".
The boys gave their plates very suspicious looks and
turned up their noses. "I want mac-n-cheese!" they
announce. "No, it's this or nothing." I respond, not
wanting to encourage picky eating. The four yr. old
ate a little of his chicken, carefully peeling off the
dark parts, and lots of rice. The two yr. old did not
touch the chicken, and hardly ate any of the rice,
which had unfortunately come into contact with the
highly suspect chicken. The broccoli disappeared,
but was later found (all of it) on the floor.
So there I was, relaxing after cleaning up the mess in
the kitchen, and I see the 2 yr. old wander past me,
gnawing on a big hunk of stale looking bread. "Huh?"
I wonder, where did he get that? Then I see the kitchen
garbage pail open... "Oh, yuck!" I realize, that's the
stale bread I threw out at breakfast time, long before
the coffee grounds, banana peels, chicken wrappers,
and who knows what else had been thrown in on top.
Ashamed for being such a big meanie, I took the
bread away from him and gave him a clean piece.
So to the point of this story: It's now clear that
my youngest would rather eat garbage than my cooking!
They really miss their mother... and her cooking.