Last night there was a miracle at our house. I only made one thing for dinner and everybody happily ate it. Let me say that again. Everybody. Ate. It. Without complaining. That NEVER happens around here. I am stunned, shocked, speechless, amazed.
Now, I often only make one thing for dinner, and then I am greeted with a chorus of complaints from the peanut gallery. They usually go something like this “I HATE that”, or “you always make things he likes, but you never make anything I like” or “can’t I just have Ramen?” Cooking for a family of picky eaters is a soul-sucking thankless job. I really wonder how my mother survived it.
When we were kids, my brother would eat pretty much anything, my sister didn’t like any meat, and I wouldn’t eat any vegetables. So you can imagine the challenges. I probably would have just given up and served cereal for dinner every night.
In my family the C-man is the one who won’t eat meat. Or potatoes, and he claims he doesn’t like rice. What he does like is Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and pizza, and pasta, and Pillsbury biscuits. Basically, he is a carb junkie.
The Princess on the other hand claims she hates pasta because it is boring. Well of course it is boring if you won’t put any sauce on it. I mean really, how can anybody hate pasta? She will however eat chicken. And turkey. And bacon. Especially bacon.
What was the wonder dinner I prepared last night? Boneless skinless chicken breasts, coated in fake Shake-n-Bake (which is just breadcrumbs, Lawry’s Season Salt and some pepper), and mashed potatoes. Real mashed potatoes too, not the kind that come out of the box. The only concession I made was to cut the children’s chicken into nugget-sized pieces before coating and baking it.
How often do you think I can get away with serving this particular meal?