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December 18, 2018

The Boring Word About Short Order Cook


November 13, 1985

I was walking through the grocery store the other day trying to find something everyone would eat. It seems no matter what I buy there is always one member of the family who doesn’t like it. One hates fish, another meatloaf, another veal. Two will eat baked potatoes, only one will touched scalloped. Even the old standby hamburger has to be prepared three ways – well-done, with onion soup and with cheese.

You notice I keep saying three when our family has five members. Dear old mom and dad eat anything. To me a gourmet meal is one I didn’t cook.

Of course, the problem of putting something on the table which will please everyone is really a moot question since it is a rare day when we all eat at the same time. There are football games, band practice, drill practice, soccer and hospital volunteering. What with work and driving car pools there is also not time to prepare these uneaten meals.

Somehow those high school home economics classes never prepared me for this. I remember the committees of five which took two weeks to prepare a breakfast. One made a centerpiece, another set the table and we worked in twos on the cooking. Our big accomplishment was a half grapefruit (cut so it had a handled formed from the rind) broiled with a half cherry in the middle. I did learn how to make macaroni and cheese but now my kids like the boxed meal better.

Some one told me it is my fault my kids don’t eat everything. But what I don’t understand is why everyone has something different that they dislike. When they were little I fed the same things to each of them but here I am playing short-order cook every night of the week.

This year Aunt Charlene is preparing Thanksgiving dinner. All I can say is good luck! At least everyone eats turkey (as long as its white meat). From there on it goes downhill. The kids don’t eat sweet potatoes, Dad doesn’t like stuffing, only half like cranberry sauce and there are even two who turn up their noses at pumpkin pie. But what do I care; I don’t have to cook!

GCB

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