BY MICHELE MILLER
What’s What New Port Richey
A few days after Thanksgiving and we’re pretty much done with the leftovers that were packed up for us to take home this year.
It was a great feast indeed and I might add, a great feat on this mother’s part despite the fact that my contribution was a few easy peasy pies baked up the day prior.
No prepping, no peeling of vegetables, no cleaning like crazy and getting up early to stuff the turkey and get it in the oven.
Nice.
I spent a good part of my Thanksgiving day chatting with fellow guests and cavorting with the grandkids while my son toiled in the kitchen with his lovely wife lending a hand and playing the perfect hostess.
It is a point of pride for me and a point of thanks for my daughter-in-law that the “Teach a man to cook” philosophy I laid out when my son was just a boy was playing out over a holiday that so often feels like too much work followed by too little time eating too fast till you feel way fuller than you should.
Some might call it a role reversal but the truth is gender roles when it came to housework were not all that specific in the home he grew up in. The lone boy would learn to cook and clean and do his own laundry just like his younger sisters. My job was to make sure my brood could fend for themselves when they went out into the world much like parental Cardinals do as they teach their fledglings how to access the backyard birdfeeder on their own.
It’s a step-by-step process that unfolds over a few days with BOTH parents bringing seeds to their peeping young that are hovering in a nearby bush. Pretty soon the youngsters get the idea and follow suit to fly to the feeder to crack their own seeds.
Mission accomplished.
My son learned early on how to scramble an egg, make a salad, a marinara sauce, a spinach and cheese quiche and arguably (according to his youngest sister who also vies for the top spot) the best chocolate chip cookies.
While fast food and heat-up meals often prevailed in his teen and college years, there was a great feeling of satisfaction that things were sinking in while getting a call from the kid who was out on his own and wanting to know how to make scampi since shrimp was on sale and he figured it could cover a couple of meals for him and his roommate.
These days he doesn’t need my help. Long ago he ventured independently, experimenting and perfecting recipes that far exceeded my expectations.
Ask my grandkids, and they will tell you that their dad makes the best macaroni and cheese and it doesn’t come out of a box. Homemade waffles, too. And while I venture that I’m a close second, his chocolate, Kahlúa pecan pie is to die for and an oft request for holiday desserts.
This year the mojo turkey breast with all the fixings offered us a new and refreshing take on the Thanksgiving feast. As we heated up the last of the leftovers I found myself remarking to the old man that the mashed potatoes our son whips up in a special way because they are his wife’s favorite were simply incredible.
Mission accomplished.
Grateful.
Now Onward.
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