What's Cooking?

The family wasn’t planning on driving this Labor Day weekend. Sitting stuck in traffic on the Bay Bridge to the Eastern Shore of Maryland for a couple of hours loses its fun after several years.

However, I was awakened on Saturday morning very early, earlier than even a rooster gets up. First Son wanted to—had to—go to the beach and convinced his father, Mad Hatter, that we would beat the traffic if we went NOW. I admit the drive was easy-peasey.

The plan -- brilliant in its simplicity. First Son and Girlfriend would drop us off at the house, which is 30 miles from Ocean City, and they would go spend a few hours at the beach. Mad Hatter had to edit many things and wanted to stay in the house, and I just wanted to relax and read. I do like the beach, really. It’s great—except for the sand, the crowds, the sun, that shark. Oh, ok. It was just one time long ago but post traumatic stress, you know?

Anyway all went according to plan. Then it occurred to me after a couple of hours that I should go and see what was available in the kitchen for dinner. There was…nothing. We haven’t been here in a while and hadn't stop at a store since we were beating that darn traffic, after all. Two thoughts, apparently, were one too many for me at that hour. Now I found myself in a house, miles away from town and no car. But Mad Hatter smiled, patted my arm and told me that he had thought ahead. He had brought supplies.

I should have remembered that I live in Alice world.

MAD HATTER  (taking out the goodies):  See? Here’s the stuff.

ALICE: What, this? I can’t even begin to…

MAD HATTER: Thank me, I know. You’re welcome!

The “recipe” for the evening: One can of black beans. One can of chicken soup with matzoballs. One small jar of artichoke hearts. One tin of deviled ham. One tin of chicken spread. 

What would Julia Child have done? Well, aside from slathering butter over everything. And drinking wine. Lots. Then what? Maybe I could just dump it all together and shape it into some sort of loaf and call it bon appétit!

Or, I could make it fun! We could pretend we’re at a Mystery Theater dinner. Except there wouldn’t be actors walking around asking us to guess who done it. The mystery?  Who keels over first from this culinary mashup.

Did we eat any of this? Of course not! We went out to dinner, after we dealt with a little problem First Son brought home.

FIRST SON: Hey, guys, sorry, but I wasn’t paying attention and you know that little red light that shows if the car is really low on gas?

US: Yeah, why?

FIRST SON: It’s on. But don’t worry. I think we can make the 17 miles to the nearest station. It’ll be like an adventure, right?

What would Julia Child have done?