I knew a woman, I can’t even remember her name, or should I say “names,” who attested to having multiple personalities. She scared me.
One day while at a luncheon with many women, I sat at a distance from her, chatting about this and that — what we ladies do best. She over-shared experiences from her therapy sessions, and gave us an update on how her “people” were doing. Her doctor, she claimed, had ridded her of a few comrades. The rest of the ladies, including me, squirmed in our seats. “I’ve got a great recipe for a quick meal,” declared one friend. “My brownie marshmallow cookies are scrumptious,” said another. “I don’t cook,” the personality-enhanced woman admitted. “The cook left and never came back.”
Since my kids moved out that’s how I feel. The chef has left the premises.
Now as empty nesters, too many times the cupboards are bare. Yet dozens of indiscernible little foil covered bowls sit in the refrigerator from half eaten cans of food. The other night my husband suggested I use up the leftovers. Pizza seemed like a possibility. In the olden days, I would have whipped out my handy-dandy bread mixer after grinding the wheat kernels to flour, tossed a healthy dough, and topped it with every imaginable cheese and topping. Instead I searched for and found the only item to slightly resemble bread. I spread the Matzo bread with spaghetti sauce. (It was either that or leftover chicken noodle soup.) My husband, who is Jewish, claims in a room full of Jewish or Italian people you can’t tell the difference. I’m hoping that applies to food as well.
I shredded a few carrots, added a few clumps of cottage cheese for taste, and threw in some white chocolate chips for good measure and layered the crust. Bravely, I unwrapped bowls of leftovers and dotted the top of my multi-cultural dish — cooked spinach and broccoli (being health conscious), diced barbecue chicken and some thinly sliced hot dogs, black olives, pineapple chunks, and a smattering of pork and beans.
My husband didn’t say it was the best meal, but he didn’t say it was the worst either. (Mainly because he knows what’s good for him.) I think it was better than the pumpkin roll dessert I made where I got the bags of pureed pumpkin and spaghetti squash mixed up from the freezer.
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That sounds very creative, but not something I would be apt to try!
Sounds good except for the chocolate chips and pork and beans. Then again I’ve never tried it that way. I’ve never eaten Matzo bread either. Hmmmmm
Does ‘He’ eat hot dogs and pork and beans?
A bit exaggerated perhaps, but FYI, to my palate, Matzo bread tastes like cardboard, so any topping would help.
I wonder if the reporter learned his lesson and will just quietly clean out the refrigerator next time?
Did I ever tell you the famous family story about my “Grandma’s Kitchen Sink Cookies”? Called so by all of us cousins because she put everything but the sink in them as she cleaned out her refrigerator each week and then added eggs, sugar, and oatmeal. Most of the time they were only tolerable, but we ate them anyway because we were always such hungry kids. And then sometimes they turned out to be great! Of course, then there was the time that she added the broken jar of peaches that she couldn’t bear to waste–to my cousin Dan’s great discomfort with an added run to the emergency room!
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