“Mom, do you mind if I take some leftovers in the refrigerator and make something?” Noah calls from the kitchen.
What? Noah? Make something? My 17-year-old son is conversant with Ramen. He’s all about the frozen taquitos. But he is not a cook. Or at least I didn’t think he was a cook.
So I hear pans rattling around in the kitchen. I decide to remain in Farm Town, harvesting my virtual crops rather than rush into the kitchen to confront reality. I don’t want to know.
But then I do want to know. I want to know the kitchen is not on fire. I want to know there are not finger fragments mixed in with whatever he’s making. But, of course, he would have screamed so I am safe there. I leave my virtual life and head to the kitchen. And there he is with something that looks utterly delicious in the pan.
You might want to write this down. He’s taken some leftover pork loin and cubed it up. He added some leftover rice, diced onion, butter, soy sauce, chipotle hot sauce, cheddar cheese and rosemary and sauteed it in a pan.Then he took some corn tortillas, filled them with the pork mixture and fried them in another pan in a little oil.
By the way, Mark and I totally disagree on the difference between sauteing and frying. I think there’s really no difference. Mark says frying is sauteing “with an attitude.”
But I digress.
What Noah made was absolutely delicious. I don’t mean it was good for a 17-year-old who doesn’t cook. I mean it was really tasty… period. Mark ate about four of these things and I ate one and I wasn’t even hungry.
This development, of course, has totally screwed up my plans to become a helicopter when Noah goes to college. I was planning on swooping in and hovering over his communal kitchen, whipping up all kinds of treats. Maybe I could even get a dorm room. Nobody would notice a 57-year-old woman living in a college dorm, right? I don’t look that old.
I am, of course, teasing about moving into Noah’s dorm. Sort of. And I am proud of him. If you think this whole one-night cooking episode is a fluke, it is not. Tonight, with a little help from me, he made lemon pork chops, and roasted potatoes, carrots and parsnips. I am sad to say they were almost as good as mine. Almost.
But I do still have one trump card. When I told him I was going to write about his new-found cooking prowess, he told me he wanted to name his pork and tortilla recipe “Corn Pork Shards.” That’s all I need to say about that, isn’t it?