Someone's In The Kitchen With Momba

Someone's in the kitchen with Momba

Someone's in the kitchen you know-o-o-o

Someone's in the kitchen with Momba

Messing up the status quo

We had spaghetti for supper Monday night. WE, meaning The Pony and Farmer H. They like that stuff. Me, not so much. I had a Ponytail Guy free hot dog, on a whole wheat bun, with Cuban mustard. And some Ruffles left from Super Bowl Sunday on the side.

Anyhoo... Farmer H had continued to bring occasional items home and stash in the mini freezer. Friday he brought 7-10 rectangular Totino's Five Cheese Frozen Pizzas. For The Pony, he said. Anyhoo... that was the topic of "Now is the time we talk about the most recent things you've done wrong." Farmer H says I need to stop buying food! That we should be eating out of the mini freezer. WE ARE EATING OUT OF THE MINI FREEZER! Except for our fast food from Burger King once a week, and a Friday carryout of pizza or Chinese. All I buy at the store are foods that accompany those in the mini freezer.

Anyhoo... the last time I made spaghetti (Farmer H did NOT give away the rest of that case as he'd promised), I said I was going to make it with the crumble sausage that we have about a 5 or 10 pound bag of. And Farmer H said he liked it better with hamburger. So... I said I was going to the store on Monday, to get oranges and lettuce and salad dressing and individual bags of chips and nutty oat bread and HAMBURGER for the spaghetti. But Farmer H said I should use the crumble sausage. I've pretty much figured out that once I tell him a plan, I should prepare to do the opposite.

Anyhoo... I told The Pony that WE would make the spaghetti at 6:00. He waited all day for his one meal. He came in and started on the sauce, which is his designated task. I did the noodles and cooked the crumble sausage and opened up the mushrooms to add to Farmer H's sauce. Instead of using the other side of the stove, The Pony chose the burner directly behind my spaghetti noodle pot. He was up under my armpit, grabbing at his stirring spoon.

That stirring spoon was a bone of contention.

"Why do you keep stirring it every 15 seconds?"

"That's what you do with sauce, Mother. You stir it."

"I don't think that's really necessary so often. The heat is barely on."

"That's how I do it when I make it for myself. When YOU'RE not in here!"

"I could understand if you were tasting it. At least to see if it's hot. But all you do is stir it. And you have too much left on the spoon! Shake that off!"

"You told me to dip the spoon in the noodle water."

"Yes. A little of the sauce keeps the pan all sparkling clean. From the citrus of the tomatoes, I think. But I've never seen the water in the noodle pan look orange like that!"

"That's what happens when you rinse off the spoon in there."

"It never does when I do it! You must have put a third of the sauce in there by now! Yuck! That's not how you taste it! I'd much rather have your lips on the spoon than that finger you're jabbing in it and licking. Over and over. But I'm not eating any sauce, so there's that."

"Don't be a backseat saucier, Mother."

"I am a FRONT SEAT chef! Uh huh! Look at THAT! Now you've stirred paper into your sauce. I saw it stuck to the spoon when you ripped it off the paper plate. You don't know how much control it took for me not to tell you how to lay the spoon on the plate between your millions of stirrings. Always turn it over! It won't stick."

"Hush up! I'm getting out the garlic toast. OUCH! OW! It's HOT!"

"Do you want me to hand you this spoon, so you can flip it over?"

"No. I've got it. OUCH! OUCH! I've done this a lot of times."

"I'm surprised you still have fingerprints to give the post office. Watch out. I'm taking out the sausage. Are you sure you don't want some?"

"I might take a little. I like it. Just not too much. I definitely don't want any mushrooms in mine!"

"Okay. Noodles look done. It's only been 7 minutes."

"That's why you try one."

"Here. Try a noodle." I held up some in the long-handled metal toothy spoon thing.

"Um. I only need ONE, Mother."

"So pull one out."

"NO! Put those back, and get ONE noodle."

"This isn't made for picking up ONE noodle. There! Grab that one."

"Hmm. Still crunchy in the middle. Let them cook. I'll dump the pan for you. Since it's heavy. And boiling."

"Okay. That helps."

[Pouring] "My glasses are all fogged up! I can't see what I'm doing!"

"Stop! The colander is sideways. DON'T POUR while I move it. There."

Somehow, we got the noodles drained. The Pony made his plate first, and set aside some in a Chinese Tupperware for leftovers, using the sauce before I bespoiled it with sausage and mushrooms.

"I'm going to take some of this sausage and put on top of my sauce. OUCH! OW! A handful was not the way to go about that!"

My little Pony. One day he's going to make himself a good cook.