Okay, so I get that vegan food doesn’t taste as good as non-vegan food. I’m not trying to disprove that or to recruit new converts. I eat vegan because I take a medication that makes my metabolism similar to that of a large, dead man. Eating vegan is the only way I’ve found to avoid having to buy a new wardrobe.
God blessed me with special gifts in a few areas. Cooking is not one of them. So, I shore up that weakness with a subscription to a service that delivers ingredients and full-color glossy instruction cards to my home. And still I feel pride each time my kitchen doesn’t catch fire. I’m good at celebrating the small victories.
When I invited the child of a couple who own shares of Cooks Illustrated stock to our home, I knew meal time would be interesting. My brow began to glisten as the 6 year old enthusiastically shared stories of his father’s flambe victories. I had pulled out my big gun (Snobby Joes) but was beginning to realize it was more like a fly swatter.
The child with the sophisticated palate was unimpressed with lentils in tomato sauce and maple syrup. He actually gagged while dutifully trying to choke down my second try, the results of my no-fail delivery service. Finally, I gave him an apple and put some Costco banana bread in the oven.
What do you do when your kid really likes a kid and you really like the parents, but they are foodies? You know that every time they come to your house, some thought will run through their head along the lines of “I need to eat before I go over there, but I should probably try to swallow a few bites of whatever gruel she serves.” How is it fun for them to come over? Maybe the new plan should be the path of least resistance: delivery from someplace delicious.
On the bright side, people love to cook for my son and husband. My boys are unceasingly amazed by the deliciousness of everyone’s cooking … by comparison.