Orange Dinner

Sometimes I cook fancy things.

I chop. I peel. I cut.

I knead. I slice. I season.

I go on long convoluted shopping trips in order to track down 60 separate secret ingredients for Sambal, Bun Bo Xao and Garam Masala.

But fussy people do not want this.

They demand Macaroni Cheese.

They care not for my hours spent slaving over books and spices, the succulent marinaded meats and the more-ish mezzes.

They want only the greatest dinner known to man or child.

The fabled Orange Dinner

Fishfingers.

Orange dinner

Orange dinner

Waffles.

plastic potato

Waffley nice

Baked Beans.

bean and gone

Beans means none of that fancy food please

I feel such a failure as I grumpily serve the Orange Dinner.

I see the overly bright, processed, pre-packaged meal as an admission of failure to please.

But their happy grinning faces as the plates appear makes me see I am succeeding to please.

I wonder what Chef Ramsey would say if this happened to him?

Don't make the chef angry

Don’t make the chef angry

About jacqueline S

I get paid to write things for clients. I'm not paid to write here for myself.
This entry was posted in childhood, colour, growing up, life, motherhood, musings, parenting and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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