The Results Are In!

And they liked it.  My mother was even very cordial.  I don't know what to say.

In preparation for a feast

I enjoy cooking.  I think I've said it before.  There is a zen art to cooking that is lost when you start microwaving foods.  Or you start watching Rachel Ray.  

Nothing personal, Rachel, but I'm not a fan of your dumbed down recipes.

I like the rushed feeling I get when I'm supposed to be doing 10 things at once, and then I figure out exactly how I should be doing that.  Without burning something.

Cooking is very fluid... it's almost like a battle.  Sun Tzu once said, "Those who do not employ this knowledge, challenge with certainty of defeat."

I'm not sure what this means or how this applies to cooking, but I thought it would seem more relevant to include a quote from a prolific strategic writer.

The point is that my parents are coming to dinner tomorrow night.  My wife and I do a lot of hosting.  She likes playing hostess at these events, and I like people enjoying my work at these events, but never is there a time when I draw more criticism than when my parents come over.

My father is usually very graceful in his complements, but will usually attack the desserts as a source for my corpulence, not that I'm terribly obese, though I am overweight by any measure.  

The interesting fact is that he has no complaints about my stuffing my face with food during dinners in the past, and that this and my general inactivity are the cause for my bloating.  Desserts had less to do with this, simply because I don't enjoy desserts to the extent that others do.

My mother... well... the thing about her is...  if tact were measured in degrees, we'd have to use the Kelvin scale to ensure a proper gauge of her lack of tact.  It would be 2 degrees Kelvin.

She is a fantastic cook, most of the time, and her ability to explore tastes, or to taste and then define food is extraordinary, but she (like myself) has the tendency to focus on only negatives.

Example:  My wife and I purchased a townhouse this last April.  I was 23.  My parents' first home, was an identical home, not a block away.  I wanted this house because it was already home when I walked in.  When they purchased that identical home, my father was around 44, my mother, slightly less than that.  

Normally, when your child does something responsible, or as an improvement on what you've accomplished, you compliment them on the decisions, as my father did.  He said, "I thought you'd spend a few years bouncing from apartment to apartment, but this what a good decision, and I'm proud of you."

Now, I didn't have it as rough as they did.  I did not immigrate to this country.  I did not start with nothing here.  And they gave me a lot of the tools that I have today to accomplish what I have.

"It's very small."

Keep in mind that we lived in an identical townhouse, 4 of us, and sometimes 5 (my uncle and cousin both exercised long term stays during our tenure).  I actually have more usable square feet, due to a lack of 3rd bedroom.  But that's her way of saying "It's a nice place, it's going to be very nice when you finish it.  I can't wait until you have children and you have to buy a bigger house.  When are you having children?"

She means well, and I still love her for it, but it's a bit embarrassing when your wife is standing there and doesn't have the language translation manual on Gunz' Mom.

So tomorrow night, there it is.  Cocktail weenies, challah bread and Mario Batalli's baked ziti recipe (with nutmeg!).  To top it all off, some flan. 

I'm hoping to have the same success as with the coach purse.