A brother, a mother & some Chef-Boyardee
Once upon a time in a far off land (California), my mother decided to go to work. Until this point she was like most moms, a ‘stay-at-home’. Pretty much a slave to my brother and I.
Each year she and Grammy would cook a special dinner for us of all things homemade Italian. We usually had friends over for this event.
Well, when mom went back to work, we were teenagers. And mom said “Feed yourselves after school”. Sighhhhhhhhhhhh.
My brother developed a love for Chef Boyardee raviolis. He ate them every chance he got.
Now fast forward to our favorite big Italian dinner…
Mom and Grammy go all out. The table is groaning under the weight of the food. We all pile it on. And before the rest of us can really get going on it… my brother says to my mother:
“This is ALMOST as good as Chef Boyardee!!”
My mother didn’t say a word. She just gave him The Look. (most of us know exactly what The Look is) and took his plate away.
I was busy protecting mine… all the time wailing “I didn’t say it!!”
She dared us to even try to eat one bite. And she cheerfully informed us that we EVER wanted a hot meal again, then we had “better damn well fix it our own damn selves” because we sure as heck-o wouldn’t be getting one out of her ever again. Period. End of discussion.
To this day, we have NEVER had a meal cooked by her. If wanted a ‘cooked’ meal, we either fixed it ourselves, went to Grandmas or took mom out.
My “Mutha” wasn’t messing around.
Posted on March 12, 2016, in Uncategorized and tagged baking, Chef Boyardee, cooking, family, family stories, holding a grudge, Humor, italian humor, life lessons, mothers, raviloi. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.