great. just great.
i sigh internally. it's going to be one of those nights.
ok. those of you who know me, know that i'm not EXACTLY what you would call "a great cook". in fact, you wouldn't even call me a "mediocre cook". in fact, you wouldn't use the word "cook" along with any other adjective to describe me. well, i suppose you could add the words "should not" in front of it.
i'm not a complete dunce in the kitchen, i can follow a recipe. but i follow the recipe, maybe with a pinch more of this or a smidge less of that... but i FOLLOW. THE. RECIPE.
introduce the dilemma of the day.
now my dear friend aussie lass will tell you (while laughing) of a
'cause you see. i'm not meant to cook. my job is to pick the kids up, take them to here or there, and speak english as much as possible. kitchen duty was not in my original job description. but during the february ski holiday, their grandmother took an unfortunate fall breaking her kneecap, and so left me with the responsibilities of "la cuisine" while she heals.
which is fine. most of the time. but i'm american. i cook things using microwaves and boxes. but, more importantly, if you say the word "tortilla" to me, i'm going to think of a taco from toxic hell rather than a spanish omelette. (but that is another story...) and even MORE importantly, if you don't cook something in the manner that the french 4 and 7 year old are accustomed to...well, let me tell you... THEY ARE NOT GOING TO EAT IT.
and so enter the boudin noir.
i have never eaten boudin noir (although i may have tasted it a time or two). i don't cook it at home. never have seen it cooked. don't know what it's technically supposed to look like when it's done. but i can guess.
the note on the fridge said: "cook in the pan or the oven." and gave a temperature. i decided on the pan, as that is something i can handle.
nathan did NOT want the boudin cooked on the stovetop, and this was just the beginning...
to make a long (and i'm sure for some hilarious) story shorter... this is how the evening ended up:
nathan (in tears): "you have ruined it! it's black!" (author's side note: well, it IS called BOUDIN NOIR for heaven's sake) i'm NOT eating that!!! I'M NOT EATING ANYTHING! i like boudin noir, but when it's well done! YOU ARE NOT A GOOD COOK! (well, duh.) Grandma is TWO TIMES a better cook than you!"
me: "actually more like four times better..."
david (while looking at his brother and shrugging): "well, yeah. it's black. but one still has to make the effort."
he tastes it. he says its fine and tastes like it always does. but, being like his brother wins out, and so he decides that HE's not going to eat anything either.
i tell nathan that when he calms down some we can talk about it, and ask him what else he would like to eat.
"RIEN DU TOUT!!!" he declares, stomping off to his room, while sneakily grabbing the phone.
later, in his bedroom, i tell him that he can call my friend and tell her how i've ruined EVERYTHING and how terrible i am as a cook.
the idea intrigues him at first, but he wants to choose a name at random from my phone, and i decided that maybe wasn't such a good idea.
me: "well, who else do you want to call then to tell them how i've ruined everything?"
nathan: "the police"
me (considering): "hmm. well, i don't think calling the police about the boudin noir is such a good idea. i mean, after all, they do have bad guys to be chasing."
nathan (after a pause): "a chief cook."
me: "well, we can call my friend katia. she's a really good cook."
nathan: "i cook better than she does."
me: "well, better than me. yes. better than her...well, i'm not so sure."
nathan chickened out from calling. but i would have LOVED to see the expression on her face when she received a phone call from a blubbering 7 year old french kid describing how i've ruined le boudin noir.