My mom was a great cook. She improvised, making a recipe come together with what was on hand and not necessarily what it called for. She once told me she cooked by smell and not taste. I try this sometimes myself, but I can’t help but taste it too, just in case.
One evening, while my mom was cooking, she handed me something to eat, something small and oval shaped. It looked like a skinless almond. I took it from her hand, trustingly, and popped it in my mouth. To my dismay, it wasn’t a nut but a clove of garlic! Trickery.
So here’s what I would tell her:
- The other day I grabbed lunch at the Whole Foods salad bar. They have the best roasted garlic. I usually just put a couple cloves in my salad box, but on this particular day I lacked self control, even though I knew Erik would not appreciate my garlic binge. I admit, I was regretting it a little after I ate all of them, but nothing a little gum couldn’t fix, or so I thought. When Erik came home that night he said the whole house reeked of garlic! I couldn’t help but giggle every time he moaned with disgust. And then it was payback. He asked me how many cloves I ate that day (maybe eight?!), and he grabbed the garlic press and minced just as many. “But mine were roasted!” I contested. “You’re going to upset your stomach!” There was no stopping him. Erik guzzled a cup of water filled with minced garlic floaties. But he stopped complaining, and I couldn’t smell him, so we were both happy. The things you do not just for love, but to stay in love.
- So there’s a little something called mommy brain and I definitely have it. For example, I have been baking Sayla the same pumpkin muffin recipe for months now. I tweaked the recipe by adding ground flax because the mixture always seemed too wet. Well today I realized that it only calls for one cup of pumpkin puree and not the whole can. Jeez.
Furthermore, I’ve been mixing pairs of words up. I say things like “squiggle and worm” (wiggle and squirm), “flicks and teas” (fleas and ticks), and “stough tuff” (tough stuff). It cracks me up just writing these down, so I’m not too sad about my new condition. Thanks, mom, for passing down the ability to laugh at yourself. It makes life so much more fun.