Wednesday, October 29, 2008


"I've come to love them, even the store bought ones, even more than blackberries."


Knowledge is power baggage.

The kids arrived home Monday tired and hungry. I got one in the bath, one in the shower, and went to start dinner.

The cleaner had put an open jar of honey in the sink. There was a thin layer of water on top.

I was really put out and not about to throw out more than a cup of our precious golden syrup. That is the nectar of 2 million flowers! I poured off the water, rinsed the top with fresh water, scooped off the top layer of honey, flung it in the compost.

The rest I poured on some boneless chicken thighs and breasts. I threw in a cup of Greek yogurt and two teaspoons of turmeric instead of the curry powder I didn't have.

And stuck it in to bake.

I started putting away groceries. The kids were clean, pajamaed and sitting by the fire. I popped open a clamshell of raspberries, got out three bowls and divvied them up.

Then I stopped. Clem doesn't like store bought raspberries. I looked down at the three bowls.

Well, I had three.

Might as well put them on the coffee table and see what happened. I plunked them down nonchalantly. Before I could even turn to go back to the kitchen Clem lunged and grabbed a bowl. I did not want to stare openmouthed, so I ran back to the kitchen and around to the family room and peeked out through the dining room. She was leaning over the bowl, cramming them in her mouth.

This is a kid who before our neighbor let us pick his raspberries this summer would not let a raspberry cross her lips. Who still refused store ones and made horrible faces when I asked her to just try one.

Moments later she came into the kitchen with her empty bowl looking for seconds. I opened the second clamshell and dished them out. As I put some in her bowl she said, "I've come to love them, even the store bought ones, even more than blackberries."

I was so glad that a brain glitch bumped me out of a rut.

I know Clem doesn't like them, so I don't offer. Stupid. It would be so much better to remain ignorant and innocently offer the hated thing every time.

Here I thought I had a new proverb, knowledge is baggage, but I've come round to an old one: Ignorance is bliss.

And about that honey chicken--I didn't tell anyone about the questionable honey and Mike proclaimed it, "The best chicken he had had in a long time."

Hmm. Is that a compliment?

2 comments:

Segovia said...

That's it, that's the entire recipe - "to chicken add home made honey, turmeric (MUCH more authentic than curry powder, btw) and greek yogurt, and bake"?!

stefaneener said...

You never know when they're going to kind of twitch and let a new thing sprout out.

Hmm. That's actually a metaphor of childhood I don't want to pursue much more. . .