Tonight I came home from class, past Grandma's bedtime, and found a note on top of a tupperware container. She usually leaves a note if she goes to bed before I come home, which is really quite sweet, but the tupperware was new. The note read "Susie, ate half for dinner. See you tomorrow." And, for a woman who likes to talk, this was blunt indeed.
Peering under the floral stationary I saw a freezer label with my Aunt Nelly's unfamiliar scrawl on it. "Apricot Chicken. 7/12/09" Lifting the lid I was decidedly AGAINST whatever jelly smeared rice dish lay beneath.
Rewind a few days back. Grandma announces she is making dinner and that I am not to lift a finger. All at once many thoughts flood my brain: "Let me!", "Does this include clean-up?", "Oxygen and ovens don't mix!" and that sort of thing. I decided that she's a grown up and can make dinner if she wants to, and considering that meat loaf and baked potatoes aren't the most challenging cuisine I didn't intervene.
Never have I regretted a decision as much as this one.
Come dinner time not only were the potatoes undercooked (Talk about small potatoes!) Evidently she had left a few key ingredients out of the meatloaf. Like onions. And worcester sauce. And breadcrumbs. Nuthin. Not so much as a ketchup glaze. Friends, we were eating greasy burger, with corners.
It was a disaster. How did this woman ever raise three strapping boys? I mean, if they ate nothing but baked beef burger for dinner it stands to reason that they'd grow, but did they never rebel!? C'mon Dad!! Decent food is a Universal Human Right for crying out loud! (I'm about to start dragging my enameled chow mug against my prison bars...)
Contemplating how I had choked down this repulsive "meal" but a few days ago I regarded this two month old unfrozen frozen meal in a new light: at least it's real chicken? And possibly, real rice?
It was delicious. Thank you, Aunt Nelly!
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