Mom on the Run
‘Yes,’ I think to myself, ‘this is delicious!’ I take another bite, I chew, I savor, I assess. ‘The raisins were truly inspired.’ I don’t say any of this out loud, but I’m sold. This is really good.
I am sick of cooking chicken, so this afternoon I pulled out shrimp for dinner. I had planned to make shrimp scampi, and told my family that, but only because I couldn’t think of anything else quick and easy to do with it.
But then it came around to be dinner preparation time, and, yuck. Garlic just wasn’t working for me. So I pondered, and stared in the cabinets and in the fridge, and: honey. With orange juice, that sounds right. And a few shakes of Tabasco, for a little kick. Yes! I poked around for side dish choices, and – oh! Mediterranean Curry Couscous! That sounds like it will go with my fruity sweet shrimp. But it needed something … and, raisins! Perfect!
In my cast iron skillet I melted honey, stirred in orange juice, and brought it to a boil. I tossed in my pound of peeled raw shrimp, and a handful of raisins. I boiled the water, stirred in the couscous. And I set out salad bowls, washed lettuce, toppings.
Oh, it smelled so good. Something different! Something healthy and unusual. I was delighted.
At dinnertime, my son walks into the kitchen and sniffs. “Doesn’t smell like scampi to me,” he says, peering into the skillet.
“Nope,” I reply proudly. “I wasn’t in the mood. I made up something else. This is going to be great!”
“Oh,” he says flatly. “I was really looking forward to scampi.”
“You were?” I’m surprised. “You should have said something.” He just looks at me. “Well, next time,” I tell him with a shrug. “But this is going to be delicious!”
My husband, son and I all plate up and move into the dining room. I have a bite of couscous first. My husband starts with his salad. But my son jabs a shrimp. I watch him carefully. He bites, makes an ‘I’m thinking about it’ face, then spears another, and another. He never says, ‘Oh, this is great!,’ which is a little disappointing, but, I figure, he was all set for shrimp scampi. Continuing to eat is a good reaction.
I try it, too, making sure to scoop up some raisins with the shrimp. Oh! This is so good! For the rest of my meal, I get two or three raisins per bite. Such a distinctive flavor, which really complements the honey and orange juice. Yes, this is terrific!
We proceed through dinner. My husband seems to like the shrimp, too, and goes back for seconds, finishing them off. We talk about regular dinner things, the silly Mixie dog pacing in circles around us, the minivan being in the shop. We talk about everything but dinner. Again, a little disappointing, but when it comes to family dinners, generally no news is good news.
Until the end: “Well,” I venture, “I thought this was great.”
“You know I don’t like couscous, don’t you?,” my son asks.
“Yes, but it’s healthier than both quinoa and plain rice,” I tell him. My high school senior rolls his eyes. “But the shrimp,” I say, returning to the main subject, my brilliant experiment, “wasn’t it good?”
It is on the tip of my tongue, I’m just about to say, “And the raisins, that was inspired!” When my son says, “Except for the raisins.”
“Yeah,” my husband says. “What was that about?” He takes his fork and pokes at the pile of raisins set aside on his plate.
“Did you just open the cabinets” – my son mimes the activity, opening doors, frowning, pretending to look inside – “and say, hmm, what else can I put in here?” My husband nods at my son and laughs, agreeing. Ha, ha, crazy Mom.
“No!” I protest. “I added them on purpose! They’re delicious!” But my boys are laughing, not fans, apparently, of raisins, and certainly not in their shrimp.
“Fine,” I say, pouting a little. Sigh. “Next time I’ll just make scampi.”
