Dad's introduction to my kitchen
September 12, 2014
So, my dad comes by today to bring me his muscadines so I can make him some jelly. He walks in the kitchen and this is how our conversation goes:
Dad: "Good God! What happened in here?! Have you already started canning?"
Dad: "What kind of lunch requires two stock pots, a cast iron skillet and two crock pots? And the counter is covered in vegetables! And WHAT is growing in those jars?!"
Me: "Well, I made a gallon of chicken broth. The chicken meat and bones are cooling in the skillet so I can get the bones out later. One stock pot is a half gallon I'm cooling to freeze; the other stock pot I'm putting squash in for soup. One of the crock pots is rendering lard; the other is rendering tallow. I'm cutting up vegetables to add to the soup; the okra is for the freezer. The jars have sprouts in them."
Dad: "What are you cooking in the oven?"
Me: "Chicken eggshells."
Dad: [Eye roll and snort.] "This is ridiculous. Do you have any clean pots?"
Me: "The little one I use for sauce."
Dad: "How are you going to process these muscadines?"
Me: "They'll have to wait until I get finished and wash up."
Dad: "Wash up so you can turn around and get them all dirty again?!"
Me: "That's about how it works around here."
Dad: "No wonder your house looks like a tornado came through."
Dad: "I mean, I know you said you cooked from scratch every day, but this is ridiculous. You know that whole concept of parents working hard so their children don't have to? I'm pretty sure chaining yourself to the kitchen is going backwards."
Me: "You say tomato, I say ..."
Dad: "I don't want to talk about tomatoes. Don't think I don't see that jar of green ones on your counter and before you ask, no, I don't want to try any of your "ferments". I can't even look at those things you have growing in those jars. Are you going to contaminate my jelly with your organic sugar, too?"
Me: "I most certainly am. And probably with only half the amount of sugar the recipe calls for, too. You're lucky ... I could use honey or maple sugar, but I won't."
Dad: "I won't even ask if you have anything for me to drink."
Me: "It sounds like you need the liquor."
Dad: "I think I'm going to go ahead and leave. Get some lunch at Sonic or something. With a big cup of something dyed red. Why is there a chicken in a dog crate in your carport?"
Me: "Don't ask. But no, it's not dinner. Yet."