By Pauline Hylton
Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first.
~Ernestine Ulmer
"Do you think they see us?" I whispered as I peeked over some sweet-smelling cantaloupes. My almost-grown daughter, Sarah and I hid in the produce section of our local grocery store.
"No. They're too busy inspecting chicken breasts. I thought you said we only had fifteen dollars to spend. What if they go over?"
Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first.
~Ernestine Ulmer
"Do you think they see us?" I whispered as I peeked over some sweet-smelling cantaloupes. My almost-grown daughter, Sarah and I hid in the produce section of our local grocery store.
"No. They're too busy inspecting chicken breasts. I thought you said we only had fifteen dollars to spend. What if they go over?"
"They forfeit, and we win!" We high fived each other.
Thus began The Great Family Cook-Off.
We drew names. Fate paired the men against the women. Though I lacked the killer competitiveness prevalent in other family members, and the only prize was "bragging rights," I could literally taste victory.
The rules were simple. Each team would create a dish from a fifteen-dollar budget and any extra ingredients on hand in our kitchen. We traveled home from the store in our family van, tight-lipped about our purchases, joking about our upcoming victories.
Our opponents secured their position near the refrigerator. Sarah and I set up adjacent to the pantry. After much consultation, Sarah and I opted for chicken quesadillas since we had all the ingredients. It was colorful so it would plate well, and who doesn't like quesadillas? Plus, we had an extra culinary surprise up our salsa-spotted sleeves.
My husband is a master in the kitchen. While I tend to "throw" together various items from the fridge, Tom crafts his entrées. He carefully chooses and inspects for visual appeal and freshness. After his meticulous choices, he begins to create. A pinch of this is added to a smidgeon of that. He tastes and stirs. When he is satisfied, he plates the food. Tom can serve buttered toast that makes you gasp with delight.
My daughter described our cooking differences to a friend like this: "Mom makes four things at once from whatever is in the fridge, and I usually like one of them. My dad concentrates on one item, and it's fabulous."
Even with my seeming handicap, I persevered. The reputation of womanhood throughout history hinged on the outcome of our contest.
Our male counterparts cut, sliced, and diced. The aroma of sun-dried tomatoes and garlic permeated the kitchen. I almost panicked.
"Micah, get sweet onions out of the fridge," Tom instructed our son.
I started to sweat.
We sautéed and simmered. Both sides sneaked sideways glances at each other.
It was time. The men served sautéed lemon chicken with capers, cilantro and sun-dried tomatoes. They plated the food on a large white serving dish with two sprigs of asparagus shooting off from a cut lemon placed strategically in the center. Paprika adorned the edges, composing a perfect balance of colors, complete with a heavenly aroma.
We spread the quesadillas artistically around an Italian ceramic platter painted with whimsical flowers. We added a sweet corn and tomato relish over each piece of chicken. Colorful peppers and sliced limes dotted the dish. A bowl containing sour cream, salsa, and two small yellow peppers that surrounded a lone peapod sat in the center of our creation.
Time for the taste test. We adjourned to our dining room, placed cloth napkins on our laps, and asked the Lord for a blessing -- as I silently petitioned Him for a victory.
Both were tasty, almost dead even. Tom and Micah's masterpiece was pretty and moist, but lacked Tom's usual panache. Ours was attractive, and yummy, but your run-of-the-mill quesadilla. Still, we hadn't decided.
After we finished the main course, Sarah and I pulled out our secret weapon. Dessert.
We had enough money in our budget to purchase store-bought cookie dough. We spread rocky-road ice cream between the warm cookies for an amazing culinary delight.
Time for the vote. Tom mumbled something about cheating and declined. Sarah and I registered our vote for all women everywhere. Micah remained silent.
"So what do you think, Micah?" Sarah asked.
There was a long pause and then Micah looked up, hands covered in chocolate and vanilla ice cream. "I don't know. All I can think about right now is this cookie."
Yes, victory is sweet.
The best fifteen dollars we ever spent.
Thus began The Great Family Cook-Off.
We drew names. Fate paired the men against the women. Though I lacked the killer competitiveness prevalent in other family members, and the only prize was "bragging rights," I could literally taste victory.
The rules were simple. Each team would create a dish from a fifteen-dollar budget and any extra ingredients on hand in our kitchen. We traveled home from the store in our family van, tight-lipped about our purchases, joking about our upcoming victories.
Our opponents secured their position near the refrigerator. Sarah and I set up adjacent to the pantry. After much consultation, Sarah and I opted for chicken quesadillas since we had all the ingredients. It was colorful so it would plate well, and who doesn't like quesadillas? Plus, we had an extra culinary surprise up our salsa-spotted sleeves.
My husband is a master in the kitchen. While I tend to "throw" together various items from the fridge, Tom crafts his entrées. He carefully chooses and inspects for visual appeal and freshness. After his meticulous choices, he begins to create. A pinch of this is added to a smidgeon of that. He tastes and stirs. When he is satisfied, he plates the food. Tom can serve buttered toast that makes you gasp with delight.
My daughter described our cooking differences to a friend like this: "Mom makes four things at once from whatever is in the fridge, and I usually like one of them. My dad concentrates on one item, and it's fabulous."
Even with my seeming handicap, I persevered. The reputation of womanhood throughout history hinged on the outcome of our contest.
Our male counterparts cut, sliced, and diced. The aroma of sun-dried tomatoes and garlic permeated the kitchen. I almost panicked.
"Micah, get sweet onions out of the fridge," Tom instructed our son.
I started to sweat.
We sautéed and simmered. Both sides sneaked sideways glances at each other.
It was time. The men served sautéed lemon chicken with capers, cilantro and sun-dried tomatoes. They plated the food on a large white serving dish with two sprigs of asparagus shooting off from a cut lemon placed strategically in the center. Paprika adorned the edges, composing a perfect balance of colors, complete with a heavenly aroma.
We spread the quesadillas artistically around an Italian ceramic platter painted with whimsical flowers. We added a sweet corn and tomato relish over each piece of chicken. Colorful peppers and sliced limes dotted the dish. A bowl containing sour cream, salsa, and two small yellow peppers that surrounded a lone peapod sat in the center of our creation.
Time for the taste test. We adjourned to our dining room, placed cloth napkins on our laps, and asked the Lord for a blessing -- as I silently petitioned Him for a victory.
Both were tasty, almost dead even. Tom and Micah's masterpiece was pretty and moist, but lacked Tom's usual panache. Ours was attractive, and yummy, but your run-of-the-mill quesadilla. Still, we hadn't decided.
After we finished the main course, Sarah and I pulled out our secret weapon. Dessert.
We had enough money in our budget to purchase store-bought cookie dough. We spread rocky-road ice cream between the warm cookies for an amazing culinary delight.
Time for the vote. Tom mumbled something about cheating and declined. Sarah and I registered our vote for all women everywhere. Micah remained silent.
"So what do you think, Micah?" Sarah asked.
There was a long pause and then Micah looked up, hands covered in chocolate and vanilla ice cream. "I don't know. All I can think about right now is this cookie."
Yes, victory is sweet.
The best fifteen dollars we ever spent.
http://www.chickensoup.com
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