Mom on the Run
My son first mentioned it weeks ago, one night as I was preparing to serve dinner. “I wish,” he said wistfully, “that one night you would make a whole package of chicken just for me.”
“Just for you?” I had laughed at my kid. “Could you really eat all that much?” Since my daughter has left for college and I’m cooking just for three, I’ve switched from chicken breasts to chicken tenders. They are easier to trim, cook more quickly, and the “fridge to freezer” packs of eight to 10 tenders are just the right size for our smaller family.
But still, eight to 10 tenders, I think, is a lot. “Oh, yeah,” he had said, nodding firmly, “I could eat them all. Especially this kind.” I’ve recently discovered the Kraft Fresh Take cheese and breadcrumb mixes – oh, absolutely, I could mix these few basic ingredients together myself and avoid the processed, packaged foods. But they’re quick and easy and after roughly a decade I’m sick of cooking dinner. So, “Just add chicken, pork or fish to the mixing bag” it is. And my son loves them! Bonus! Loves them so much, in fact, that he wants to eat a whole package of chicken by himself.
So tonight, when I asked my husband what he wanted for dinner – “I’ve got chicken and salmon thawed. Which would you prefer?” and he said, “Salmon,” but then added, because our son hates salmon, “But why don’t you go ahead and fix the chicken too?” – I knew that tonight was the night. I laughed a little, and pulled out the Spicy Chipotle Cheddar Recipe cheese and breadcrumb mix, and I got to work.
My son figured it out about 10 minutes ago when he came downstairs, just as I was wrapping up in the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?” “Dad and I are having salmon,” I said. “You get chicken.”
He realized it instantly: “I get chicken? Do I get ALL the chicken?” My 17-year-old, who towers over me, who plays ice hockey and lacrosse and lifts weights at least four times a week, my kid who never seems to get enough food, stared at me, mouth and eyes wide open with hope.
“Yup,” I said, grinning up at him. “You get ALL the chicken.”
“Yessss!,” he did a low-key, waist-high fist bump. Then after hesitating for a minute, looking over my shoulder at the status of dinner, he turned on his heel and went into the living room to wait.
Finally, “OK, guys, come and get it,” I announce. The rice is done, the chicken is out, salad is in bowls, and I’ve just come in from outside (brr!), where I grilled the salmon. In an instant my son is there, in the middle of the kitchen, waiting.
He has a thought, and, “What’s the flavor?”
I turn away from him, move to the counter, pick up the empty package. “Spicy Chipotle Cheddar.” I smile again, knowing he’s going to be happy.
A movement behind me catches my attention. I turn, and there’s my starving high-school senior, hopping up and down, in place, lightly, five, six times, he’s so pleased. “Spicy Chipotle Cheddar. And I get it all!” Before his dad even gets into the room he grabs a plate and a spatula and starts loading it up.
My husband and I stand back to give our starving teenager his space. And for a brief startling moment, I look at the salmon filet and hope it’s enough, because nobody else is getting any chicken!
