Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen!!
Twice this week I found my younger son in the kitchen cooking. This may not sound like anything unusual to you, but it is a bit out of character for him. I'm not complaining, mind you. I am delighted that he is venturing into the kitchen on his own. Over the years, I have taught him and his brother the basics of cooking and how to follow a recipe, but neither one has taken much of an interest in it.
Some of you may remember the grape salad that he experimented with a while back. That was unusual for him. Most of the time he doesn't cook much of anything except very simple foods like eggs or hot dogs or a grilled cheese sandwich at most.
So what was the occasion this time? He is a member of the wrestling team which is taking a trip to Florida this December. They have been working on numerous fundraisers to make money to pay for this trip. This week the wrestlers were asked to bring in something for a bake sale to be held during a chili supper before the Friday night football game.
I came home from work on Thursday night, and he was in the kitchen. There was a mixing bowl and a mixer on the counter along with an egg carton and some cooking oil.
"What are you making?" I asked.
"Fudge," he said.
"Fudge?"
"Yeah, I found a mix for it in the freezer. It's baking now."
I raised my eyebrows. Anyone who has ever made fudge knows that you don't bake it. You cook it on top of the stove or in the microwave. I also knew there was no mix for fudge in the freezer or anywhere else in the house.
"We don't have any mixes for fudge," I said.
"Yea, I found one," he answered and then picked an empty box off the counter and handed it to me.
"You're baking fudge?" I said still trying to figure this one out. Then I looked at the box he handed to me. It was a chocolate fudge flavored cake mix box!
"You're not making fudge. You're making cake."
"No," he said, "I'm not making cake. I'm making fudge. See it says right here, chocolate fudge." He pointed at the front of the box and then apparently for the first time noticed the picture of the cake on the box. "Oh."
He grinned and said, "Oops!"
We both had a good laugh. It worked out fine. He had followed the directions on the box how to make the cake, and it turned out nicely. He just thought while he was doing it that he was making fudge, not cake. He took the cake in for the bake sale the next day.
This morning I got up and found him in the kitchen again. He announced that he was getting ready to make pancakes. His girlfriend (Have I mentioned how much I love that girl?) had given him a recipe for peanut butter pancakes that he wanted to try. It was just a basic pancake recipe, but it had peanut butter chips added to the batter.
He showed the recipe to me and asked if I thought it would be enough for the three of us for breakfast. (My husband is out of town on a camping trip this weekend until tomorrow morning, so it was just myself and my two sons here this morning.) I looked it over and told him that, yes, I thought it would be enough for us.
He went about the kitchen gathering ingredients and utensils while I made myself a cup of tea and watched him work. I have learned that it is best for me to not offer advice when my sons are cooking. I prefer to just let them do things on their own, in their own way, unless they ask for advice (or unless I see the possibility of a fire hazard).
The recipe he was using called for two teaspoons of baking powder. He hunted but couldn't find the teaspoon measuring spoon. I am pretty sure it was in the drawer he looked in, but he didn't want to take the time to find it. He found an eighth of a teaspoon measuring spoon and said he would just use that instead.
I tried not to giggle. Really, really I did, but it was just so funny to see him standing there at the counter measuring out sixteen spoonfuls of baking powder into the bowl using that little tiny eighth of a teaspoon measuring spoon. I couldn't keep it in. I had to laugh. Oh well, at least he got the math part right. That's something, isn't it?
The pancakes, by the way, were delicious. Apparently, doing it his way worked just fine. Even better, it gave me a laugh.
Some of you may remember the grape salad that he experimented with a while back. That was unusual for him. Most of the time he doesn't cook much of anything except very simple foods like eggs or hot dogs or a grilled cheese sandwich at most.
So what was the occasion this time? He is a member of the wrestling team which is taking a trip to Florida this December. They have been working on numerous fundraisers to make money to pay for this trip. This week the wrestlers were asked to bring in something for a bake sale to be held during a chili supper before the Friday night football game.
I came home from work on Thursday night, and he was in the kitchen. There was a mixing bowl and a mixer on the counter along with an egg carton and some cooking oil.
"What are you making?" I asked.
"Fudge," he said.
"Fudge?"
"Yeah, I found a mix for it in the freezer. It's baking now."
I raised my eyebrows. Anyone who has ever made fudge knows that you don't bake it. You cook it on top of the stove or in the microwave. I also knew there was no mix for fudge in the freezer or anywhere else in the house.
"We don't have any mixes for fudge," I said.
"Yea, I found one," he answered and then picked an empty box off the counter and handed it to me.
"You're baking fudge?" I said still trying to figure this one out. Then I looked at the box he handed to me. It was a chocolate fudge flavored cake mix box!
"You're not making fudge. You're making cake."
"No," he said, "I'm not making cake. I'm making fudge. See it says right here, chocolate fudge." He pointed at the front of the box and then apparently for the first time noticed the picture of the cake on the box. "Oh."
He grinned and said, "Oops!"
We both had a good laugh. It worked out fine. He had followed the directions on the box how to make the cake, and it turned out nicely. He just thought while he was doing it that he was making fudge, not cake. He took the cake in for the bake sale the next day.
This morning I got up and found him in the kitchen again. He announced that he was getting ready to make pancakes. His girlfriend (Have I mentioned how much I love that girl?) had given him a recipe for peanut butter pancakes that he wanted to try. It was just a basic pancake recipe, but it had peanut butter chips added to the batter.
He showed the recipe to me and asked if I thought it would be enough for the three of us for breakfast. (My husband is out of town on a camping trip this weekend until tomorrow morning, so it was just myself and my two sons here this morning.) I looked it over and told him that, yes, I thought it would be enough for us.
He went about the kitchen gathering ingredients and utensils while I made myself a cup of tea and watched him work. I have learned that it is best for me to not offer advice when my sons are cooking. I prefer to just let them do things on their own, in their own way, unless they ask for advice (or unless I see the possibility of a fire hazard).
The recipe he was using called for two teaspoons of baking powder. He hunted but couldn't find the teaspoon measuring spoon. I am pretty sure it was in the drawer he looked in, but he didn't want to take the time to find it. He found an eighth of a teaspoon measuring spoon and said he would just use that instead.
I tried not to giggle. Really, really I did, but it was just so funny to see him standing there at the counter measuring out sixteen spoonfuls of baking powder into the bowl using that little tiny eighth of a teaspoon measuring spoon. I couldn't keep it in. I had to laugh. Oh well, at least he got the math part right. That's something, isn't it?
The pancakes, by the way, were delicious. Apparently, doing it his way worked just fine. Even better, it gave me a laugh.
