(Non) Cooking for Ingrates

[pegkerr]

I stopped by the beautiful shiny new Seward Co-op on the way home from work, thinking I'd pick something up ready-made to feed the girls, since I didn't feel like cooking. Everything I saw looked incredibly delicious. I called up the girls on my cell phone and consulted. These were the various options I suggested, all of which were summarily rejected (reasons in parentheses).

From the grab and go cooler:
Turkey soup (black beans)
Tomato basil soup (cooked tomatoes, ick)
Broccoli cheese (broccoli)
Clam chowder (all seafood is verboten)
Borchst (beets)
Sushi (ha. You were kidding, right?)

From the hot bar:
Rotisserie chicken (it, uh, resembles something that was living once, which is icky)
Pizza (has mushrooms)
Spinach lasagna (spinach and onions)
Chickpea curry (chickpeas. And curry)

At this point, I lost my temper, told them that they could get their own damn dinner, bought the spinach lasagna and carmelized beets (I didn't even bother asking about those) and a carton of chocolate tofu mousse to smooth my ruffled feathers. Came home and ate it all, studiously, ignoring both girls. I feared I might say something unforgiveable if I spoke to them.

I have no idea what they had for dinner. Maybe cardboard, for all I know.

Comments

[irinaauthor.livejournal.com]

One of my mom's favorite stories happened when I was about three and she made crab legs. I wouldn't eat them because, duh, I was three, and she said, "Well, if you don't want your dinner then you can just go right to bed." She walked me straight to my room, put me in my PJs, and tucked me in right then and there.

The next day she wasn't really thinking and served the leftover crab. I climbed into my booster seat, took one look at my plate, and said, "Well, I guess I'm tired again," climbed back down, and went straight to my room. She felt bad about it happening two nights in a row, though, and let me have a peanut butter sandwich. That's one of the only times she made something separate for me, though. Usually the rule was that I couldn't get up from the table until I'd eaten one bite of each thing or bedtime came, whichever was first. It was awful sitting by myself in the empty dining room listening to my parents and brother have fun watching TV and playing games in the other room, so I always caved.

[aerden.livejournal.com]

The only foods my Mom ever cooked that I truly disliked were raw mushrooms, three-bean salad, string beans, and artichoke hearts. Anything else, I would eat, so I didn't have too bad a time of it.

Now that I'm married, my husband cooks, and he doesn't like so many delicious things! I don't know how he grew up to be the size he is. (g)

Chantal