Confession time.
Yes. Again. Apologies, but this does seem to be a good forum for such things.
I have been slacking lately in the meal department. Purchasing and preparing meals is a household task that I have, until recently, embraced.
Especially since it means The Dada handles the laundry. Yes, all of it. Yes, I do realize how lucky I am.
But lately… a half-hearted hug is the best I could do. The Family has been eating more than our fair share of quesadillas, pizza, and assorted pasta dishes, garnished with the not-infrequent dinner out for good measure. Suffice it to say I was quite pleased with myself Sunday evening when I served homemade squash apple soup and homemade truffled shiitake parmigiano reggiano risotto in the same meal.
Smug. S-M-U-G. Smug.
As is the case in oh-so-many cautionary tales, that hubris foreshadowed my downfall, for The Kidling began to sing during the meal:
“You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit. You get your risotto, and you don’t throw a fit.”
I give up.
kidlingville 
i love every word of this.
Shucks. Thanks, friend.
Send me the recipes – I’ll totally appreciate them 😉
Of course you would, Mimi. Because you have manners, unlike a certain 3′ 10″ human I know…
The risotto I improvise every time. I will email you the gist of it. I googled the soup recipe, so I should be able to find it again. Honestly, though, the apple was overpowering. I think I will stick to squash soup next time.
Haha! That is hilarious! The Kidling really just doesn’t know…Doesn’t get it that mom making truffled shiitake parmigiano reggiano risotto is just AWESOME!
Thankyouverymuch. I fed her frozen pizza tonight. She didn’t complain . Hmm…
Not throwing a fit is an achievement in and of itself. Coming up with something for supper that’s both healthy AND that everyone will eat nicely feels like a herculean feat some days, or most days.
Your supper sounds delicious, and if you keep posting that you’re eating such wonderful food, you may look up from your plate to discover this fellow at your table, looking for seconds.
True enough. I should count my blessings. And trust that the food is often subpar. I am an inconsistent chef, at best. Definitely not worth the drive.
Pearls before swine… but not the truffle-hunting type of swine
Tee hee.
The Kidling and I discussed the hunting of truffles at length. She clearly thought it was odd, because, well, it is odd. Such a strange, strange delicacy.
Are you doing NaBloPoMo? Seems like I’m seeing more posts from you (hooray!!).
No, I didn’t post on Nov. 1, and I am a literalist. Alas, I have been finding old notebooks with material, so that motivates me to use my day-to-day material so I can get to the old stories. We’ll see how long this lasts…
I know exactly how you feel, except in my case it’s not the kids who complain it’s my mother. Every. Single. Meal.
That’s rough. And it is far more difficult to laugh off an insult from an adult than from a child. Trust me when I say I would love to have you cook for me every single day. Cheers to you and your steadfast devotion to helping your mother.
As much as I would like to take the compliment at face value, it’s not really devotion to help, it’s more of a I-work-from-home-situation so apparently that makes me the most convenient person to also cook and do chores around the house.
As far as her complaints, she can never have enough salt. Ever. So everything I make, she has to drown in salt. I’ve learned to live with it and just serve her plate and immediately pass the salt shaker.