Supper

Just tell me what to cook for supper....I like to cook.  I just don't like coming up with menus.  Just tell me what to cook....please.  Tell me what you want to eat.  I bet I'd like to eat that, too.

I am not a hunter/gatherer.  (That is a reference to a 4th grade social studies text from which I used to teach.  I continue to be happy that I don't have to go and find and or kill my dinner every night....the animals and plants in my little corner of the Earth are safe.)

What do you cook for supper?  Subway?  Krystals?  A roast with potatoes, carrots, and onions in the crock pot?  A frozen dinner?  A sandwich?  Kraft macaroni and cheese?  Chicken?  Broccoli?  Scrambled eggs?  Pancakes?  Do you keep certain ingredients around so you can always throw them together and have something wholesome to eat?  Does your family roam and graze or do you sit down and have a family meal?

I am not judging anyone.  I just want to know if all of the other 7 billion people in this world are as flumoxed as I am about the evening meal.  Do you double recipes and freeze one for the future?  Do you have your main meal at noon and an egg sandwich for supper?

Is handing Bill a jar of peanut butter and a spoon acceptable?

When the kids were growing up their favorite supper was Chicken Breast Strips (from a box in the frozen food section of the store) (with sweet and sour dipping sauce) and Lipton Stroganoff noodles.  They loved that.   They would ask for that whenever I said, "What do you want for supper?"  I knew that Betty Crocker would come get me and put me in Bad Mother Jail if I served that too often.  "Here, sweetheart, let's sprinkle a little more MSG on your plate.  I don't know if you have consumed enough additives today."

So, do you stop at the store every night and pick up your ingredients or are you like the people in the magazines and newspapers who make a list according to the food sales, and your coupons, and your dietary needs, and shop for the entire month, prep your food, create your meals, freeze your dinners, and then croquet a bedspread for your new neighbors while listening to a symphony?

At 5:00 p.m. I look and see what's in the refrigerator.  AND then ten minutes later I look again, like maybe the God of Foods blessed me with a secret delivery.

 "I can't remember when I bought these hot dogs.  We better eat them."

Bon Appetite.