May the Forks Be With You

Baby Bird Update: No longer ugly!We rejoice!

      I don't really remember the first time I cooked an entire meal, but I'm sure it was magical. Finally there was something I could handle all by myself. It didn't take much skill to follow a recipe or to clean up, and soon I became skilled at both. Somewhere along the line a tradition started, and I was cooking for a group of very appreciative adults. This group can vary from 6 people to as many as 20, but it always includes the core 6. These core six also happen to be my parents. How can I have six parents? Your guess is as good as mine, but one day I looked up to notice that I had 4 extra parents.
     Some people gain extra parents through divorce and then marriage, legally binding them to those extra parents. Mine aren't legally bound (Gary and Arlene were once upon a time but then I hit 18 and should something happen to my parents they were no longer responsible for raising me), they just kind of ended up as extra parents. When I was still in high school I would usually end up going out to eat with my parents, and subsequently this would also include Gary, Arlene, Randy, and Julie. The same goes for going to the movies, or even just going to supper at someone's home, they were all there. Somewhere along the way they all molded into one parental unit and have remained that way ever since.
     Now that you have the still very confusing back-story, it's time to learn how the parental meals go. First I am asked in a roundabout way if I would be interested in making a meal for everyone. I am always extremely flattered that they want me to cook, but it's really funny how someone will bring up the subject of me cooking. It usually goes something like this:
"So Kersti, would you be interested in making supper some night? I could bring something!" And the other parental units usually chime in that they will also bring things, and then comes the next step: selecting the menu. This is my favorite step because there are just so many possibilities. I drag out my favorite cookbooks and look through them, writing down recipes that sound good. Once I've found a main course that will suit the occasion I try to find salads that will accompany the meal tastefully. It doesn't always work, but I try to make it sound fancy at any rate.

Visible Lack of Pain=Smart Brain

    Once the meal is selected and the proper grocery items are purchased it is time to start cooking. I number the menu items from most prep time to least prep time and get to work. I love having one thing cooling in the fridge while I'm working on throwing together another item, I feel so efficient, like some kinda robot. The only thing that is not fun about all this cooking, it that I always forget NOT to stick my face right next to the oven door that I am opening. Somehow I forget, each and every time, that the first blast of air is very very hot. I think I just get so excited about seeing what is cooking in the oven, that my senses leave me completely and I end up with a singed face. Burned face or not, once the cooking is done the real fun begins.
    With all my parents gathered around the table I begin the process of serving them food. Handing my carefully arranged food items to them I watch as they appreciatively spoon cucumber salad onto their plates. Once the food has made it around the table I whisk the plates back into the kitchen and await the parents' reactions. Whenever I cook meals for them I inevitably select a recipe I've never tried, and that always makes me nervous. This time it was the honey mustard chicken, and I was worried my combination of spicy brown mustard and honey would end up tasting awful. Sure they would've faked it if the food was nasty, but my extensive experience with tv sitcoms has heightened my awareness of fake food appreciation(aka: fake tasty face). The chicken ended up being quite tasty, the fruit salad was refreshing, the cucumber salad was just seasoned enough, and the lemon meringue pie was one of my best deserts yet. Yes, I did just compliment my own cooking but I have no regrets. It was a tasty meal and I'm owning up to it, which I'm allowing because it's almost my birthday.
     After the last bite of pie was long gone, it was time to clean up the dishes. Being the anal retentive chef that I am, I had washed all the dishes used during the cooking process as soon as they were empty. No matter how hard I try, there are always more dishes to clean once a meal is eaten. Cleaning up is not nearly as bad as people make it out to be, how bad is splashing around in soapy water? And the feeling of satisfaction once you take a look around a spotless kitchen is unmatched. Yes, I realize I have a sickness...but I'm using it to feed other people so this is making my birthday exception as well.

That's my Star Wars Face...I'm working on it.

     Finally(and to the awesome tunes of the Mamas and the Papas) I had cleaned all the dishes. The parents try to help with things in the kitchen, but I always refuse them. Apparently I really enjoy being independent, or maybe just in control. I think my cooking report card would say: "Does not work well with others." After I had put away the last dish I joined the parents on the porch. We sat outside enjoying the nice weather for a while, but then it got dark out. Julie looked at Randy and they got up and headed to their pickup. Randy came back by himself and kicked Gary out of his chair, telling me to sit there instead. I cautiously sat down and was told by Randy that I must close my eyes. The rest of my parents started laughing as I closed my eyes. It felt as though I was at an Ouija party because he asked me if I felt any different on this night. He also told me to trust him, and that it was going to be okay. Then I felt someone standing by me and Julie placed something in my hand and made me whip it around. The thing was buzzing and when I moved it a "Swoosh" noise came out of it. Randy handed me an envelope and told me to open it, with my eyes still closed. After successfully opening the envelope I was allowed to open my eyes and behold all that was previously unseen by me. I was holding onto a glowing blue light-saber and a Star Wars birthday card that played the theme when I opened it. The card was supposedly from my actually father and mother, and it explained that they were finally okay with the fact that I was born a girl and not the longed for boy to carry on the family name. I was laughing so much that I had a hard time holding on to my light-saber.
     Later on when Gary, Arlene, Randy, and Julie climbed into the pickup to leave I stood at the end of the sidewalk with my light-saber in hand. I turned it on and waved it at them, and was met by a chorus of "May the force be with you!" I can't be too sure, but I may just be the only almost 20 year old who cooks for her six parents and is given a light-saber for her upcoming birthday. It's just a guess, but I may be solo in that category...maybe even Hans Solo(birthday pun exception....deal with it!).

Birthday Pun Exception: WIN!