Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Here's the thing. My family is so used to me cooking great meals that ... meh ... it's no big deal. Serving creamy risotto, hearty stews, homemade bread, chicken piccata or pasta with homemade pesto generates no response, but tell them we're eating out at McDonald's and they're doing high fives.
I think my culinary skills are taken for granted.
Which is why I like to feed their friends. THEY compliment me, eat with gusto, and actually ask for seconds. It's a joy to feed them.
For example, earlier this week Jonathan had a couple of friends over. For lunch I fixed them chicken quesadillas ... nothing could be easier. I grilled the quesadillas on a Panini press, cut them into triangle wedges and arranged them on a platter. I served them with restaurant-style tortilla chips, salsa, and a huge bowl of pre-cut watermelon chunks. I set the table with nice placemats and called them in for lunch.
My son walks into the kitchen and ... no comment.
His friends, however, walk in and here's what they say:
Friend #1: Gosh, I feel like I'm in a restaurant.
Friend #2: I feel like I need to leave a tip.
But wait, it gets better because a little later:
Friend #1 to Friend #2: How many quesadillas did you eat?
Friend #2 to Friend #1: I stopped counting. There's one more left ... do you want to split it?
But wait, it gets even better because this is what happened after they were done:
Friend #1 to me: Thank you. That was literally the best meal I've had all week.
And with that, I'll keep on cooking.