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Liar Liar, My Fannie’s on Fire

I think I must be getting old. Only 40 and my mind is turning into congealed rubbery mush… minute by minute. Seriously, I can’t remember a thing. I really should do more to keep my brain sharp. Brain sharpeners like Sudoku in the Sunday paper or maybe cross word puzzles. You know, the ones you see all the elderly so meticulously hanging over in the waiting rooms of the doctor’s offices. They look so serious; their lil black close up glasses dangling at the tip of their nose, they all look up and down and frown when lil babies crank up. Why wouldn’t they?? It’s a fight for their minds for Heavens sakes!!! Shut that kid up!
Here’s the dilemma: I make up these insane names for my recipes that are nothing more than lil disguises that I whip up with “healthies.” For example, in the minds of my children, chicken stuffed with sautéed artichokes and fresh spinach is to be regarded as evil and dirty; the layers of thick pluff mud that they peel off the bottom of their grungy feet after a long day in the back waters of the creek. This fibbing business is a bit of dime store wisdom I picked up from my mother. When as a child, liver was masked as a “extra special cut of steak, that’s why it tastes different.” And “don’t be so ignorant! Those Nilla Wafers aren’t stale.” She’d say in frustration at the thought her middle child could be so completely brain dead, “I bought them soft and chewy for a reason! All your baby teeth haven’t dropped; you don’t want to choke do you???”
Now, years later, I wave my magic wand (which looks a lot like a spatula,) and suddenly… POOF! Chicken stuffed with sautéed artichokes and fresh spinach is now Cheesy Chicken a La Yum Yum!! An instant success! Eggplant Casserole has been revamped to Sassy Sausage Cass Cass (they hate the word casserole ~ don’t ask) and those chunks of “slimy funny looking stuff” is “bread (Heaven forbid they actually think it’s eggplant) to make the Cass Cass stick together.”
Such deceit is delightfully fun and a wonderful way to sneak in more nutritious items.
Note: I do not go over board like Jerry Seinfeld’s wife and grate up broccoli in their brownies. That’s aborable!!!!! After all, I gotta eat this stuff too.
So I’m deceiving my kids on a regular basis and have been for most of their lil precious lives. This proves not only fun, (Hey ~ I’m a single mom, I gotta get my kicks where I can) but it’s also healthier than corn dogs with a side of boxed romaine noodles topped off with a can of expired green beans thrown at them.
But there’s a problem. Isn’t there always a problem?? It’s the problem of me getting old and not doing my crossword puzzles therefore my brain is no longer sharp so when the request is made “Momma would please cook us Kalamazoo Chicken Coo~ca~racha? It is so yummy!! I’ve been dreaming about it all day!!!” Dreaming about it all day? All day? Really??? What kind of pressure are you people trying to put on a girl??? Poop. I’m starting to feel the heat. “Momma, just look through your cookbooks. Remember, that’s what you did last time.” “I did? Do you remember which cookbook I was looking in? Page numbers or a quick sketched drawing would really be helpful at this point.” “Mom – I’m starving.” Jake begins to growl like Fred Flintstone. I fumble and say innocently “Were there lots of herbs involved?” Silence. Looks of disappointment. What in the world is Kalamazoo Chicken Coo~ca~racha??????? Wasn’t it really tilapia? Or was it pork chops slathered in white wine sauce topped with capers????? Oh no, maybe it was chicken Marcela with diced tomatoes, prosciutto dripping over pasta???? The matriarch always says when you tell one lie, you’re gonna have to tell three more to cover it up…. I tell about 47 kitchen fibs per week. 52 if it’s been an especially long week. Panic sets in. When are these kids gonna grow up and stop forcing me to lie to them??? Maybe I should come clean and quit lying. When Izzy goes out to restaurants with a date, she’s gonna be stunned to find that there really is no such dish as Chop Chop Abracadabra! And STAL, I can see it now, I am setting him up for constant disappointment in his future wife as he accuses her of not knowing how to cook and how come she can’t even pop out a quick and simple dish such as Damsel In Distress or even Poodles Noodles?????? Perhaps I have doomed my children for future food recognition failure. I should quit lying immediately. But then ~ aren’t I taking the chance of my kid’s only eating beat up stale bread ends that they sneak out in the middle of the night because they are so hungry from skipping the correctly labeled dish? Can I actually quit lying at this point? It’s so delightful, I tell you what, it really is!!!!! What do I do? Go to Liars Anonymous and say “Hello my name is Pearl and I lie to feed my children decent food?” Nah. Too much trouble. Think I’ll just continue to live the life of a liar and avoid the chance of getting caught by writing my recipes down. Crank that griddle up, fellow bloggers! Life is too short to salivate over fried spam!!!

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