Aunt Barb's Kitchen

Concentrate on what you've got...

"If I had more paint colors I could paint ..." then her voice melted into a din like the sound of Charlie Brown's teacher. I had worked late that day. The over achieving SLP had won out over the over-achieving mom that day and obviously the overpowering weapon was a common sense drain. I had convinced myself that, despite my recent procrastination award for  grocery shopping avoidance- which I could display quite nicely in my barren pantry-I would be quite capable of "whipping something up" (isn't that what they used to say?). However, by the time I dragged myself over the threshold of our new home that day, the thought of venturing the entire half mile to the grocery store was just too much to bear. I was still operating under the delusion that I could create an acceptable meal by scavenging for ingredients, thereby rescuing myself from having to negotiate with the flip flops that were currently holding me hostage.  I had all but caved to the realization that I would not be creating a piece de la resistance for family dinner that night from the half eaten bag of walnuts, meager left over taco fixings, head of romaine, two pieces of turkey, cranberries, and dry goods that remained in the house, and was planning a new dinner based on buying the ingredients whose plot line would provide me the fastest course through the local grocery store, when I snapped back to reality. My daughter's din had turned into more of a continuous whine, which I recognized instantly as the second stage of suburban child starvation. Like every loving and concerned parent whose child is suffering in front of them from a self-inflicted malady would do, I grasped for the closest cliche I could  and struck: "Why can't you just be happy with what you have?"

Instantly, like that record-scratch party scene from every eighties movie you have ever seen, life face-palmed me for being such a hypocrite! Time stood still and I studied my daughter's slack-jawed mid-eye roll face, and felt the full pressure of the universe because I somehow in that moment had become the embodiment of my mother's past words and most likely my daughter's future words. For one brief second time had folded and as luck would have it, clobbered me. As her eyes whipped around the final bend, everything returned to normal and I was left with no alibi, no explanation for being so dismissive, just an indignant stance and a look that I'm sure wreaked of insecurity. I mustered up the courage to apologize and listen. As it turned out, I was right, she was being a little glutinous and as I handed down her "sentence," I thought back to my own situation and decided to sentence us both. "I think we both need to learn to work with what we have a little better." As I was almost sideswiped by another hazardous eye roll, I pulled her to the kitchen and asked her to use some of that creativity to help me create a kid friendly dinner with what we had. In the end, we decided to make taco quesadillas with the left over fixings and serve them with a side of quinoa and romaine with cranberries and walnuts. It was not gourmet, but it was relatively balanced, they all found something they liked and I did not have to surrender my flip flops.

Post some of your favorite ways to use left overs below: