Stories About the Cooks

I don’t claim to be a great grill cook, although I do love my charcoal grill and feeding my family outdoors, no matter what the weather.

One Thanksgiving I was grilling outdoors, in the rain, under an umbrella, but that was only because the stove had quit for some reason.

Thank goodness this Labor Day my Darling Daughter decided to do the gilling outdoors, which was fine by me. Than you Darling Daughter. Love your burgers and hot dogs.

I like to cook, but have not been named by my family as the Best Cook in the World, although they do love my potato salad. But my Country Philosopher friend sent an email this week defining Lousy Cooks. I hope he wasn’t referring to me. I’ve only set the kitchen on fire once, er, twice. He said:

You are a lousy cook if… 

-Your family automatically heads for the table every time they hear a fire alarm. (I took the battery out! But doggoneit, they put it back in!)

-Anyone has ever broken a tooth eating your homemade yogurt. (It was a popcorn ball!)

-Your kids know what "peas porridge in a pot nine days old" tastes like. (They said they liked porridge.)

-Your little daughter goes outside to make mud pies, and the rest of the family grabs forks and follows her. (Daughter makes excellent pies!)

-Your kids' favorite drink is Alka-Seltzer. (And Tums, and Rolaids, and…never mind.)

-You have to buy 25 pounds of dog food twice a week for your toy poodle. (Can I help it if the dog buries the leftovers I leave in her bowl?)

-Your kids got even with the neighborhood bully by inviting him over for dinner. (All kids are invited, but their parents seem to be a little cautious.)

-Your husband refers to the smoke detector as the oven timer. (Well, OK. No one at my house gets excited when the smoke detector goes off.)

-No matter what you do to it, the gravy still turns bright purple. (My poor sister-in-law did her best to teach me how to make gravy. I’m so sorry that didn’t work. Bu that gravy in a jar is pretty good.)

So much for Country Philosophers. I have another friend, who shall remain nameless because I don’t want her hurting me, who was so excited about her Labor Day meal.

“I didn’t have to cook,” said my friend, who has set her kitchen on fire more than I have. “My granddaughter grilled some hamburgers. They were great.”

I asked her to remind me how old her granddaughter is.

“She’s 13.”

A 13-year-old grills while grandma chills? Wow. At last, I’ve found a grandma cook who rivals me. Yippee!