Many years ago when I was in high school, about age 15, my mother was very sick on Christmas day. She had planned a beautiful meal and friends were coming to join us. I could cook a little bit but I had never tried a big company dinner. (I figured we would get Dad's specialty, hamburgers on the grill and potato chips, which was our dinner another Christmas when Mom was sick and Bruce and I were small.) Nope, Mom informed me that we were not canceling our feast. I would make the entire dinner, and she would talk me through it. Even though she was truly sick and felt awful, she sat in the kitchen and told me everything to do. I made turkey, her incredible dressing, and green beans and pie for dessert. I loved the feeling of accomplishment. I felt very grownup.
I was reminded of that tonight.
My son spent his evening making lasagna, while I coached him. I've been making homemade lasagna for about 30 years. He had volunteered to make it and take it to work, for his company's Christmas luncheon tomorrow. He did an outstanding job. I tasted everything and it was incredible. He seasons food beautifully.
The fact that he has only one hand doesn't matter. He can chop an onion faster than I can -- and better!
I could feel my mother's spirit as we talked and laughed through the evening. She started teaching him to cook when he was still a little guy, because he loved guacamole and wanted to learn to make it. He still makes better guacamole than any restaurant. I love that he loves to cook, and he is so creative.
At work (Southern Meal Prep) he cooks the recipes they use, and it's all tasty. Tomorrow, though, he will have a chance to show off his real skills.
His granny would be so proud. I am a very proud mama.