Aselin

I love cooking. I watch Food Network in my spare time. I teach sold-out cooking classes across the country. I dream of going to a minimal time commitment, low-cost culinary school. The side-effect of this lay person's novice interest in food has been that I'm sort of a food snob. I don't like a lot of processed food. Buffets scare me, and I'm regularly depressed when eating out to find the food not as good as I can make at home.

The challenge of my interest in food has been coming up with things to cook. Regularly my family is in charge of choosing what they would like, because the planning is what often stumps me. So imagine my delight when driving with my kids yesterday and they have a request for Monday dinner! I'm all a twitter with what delicacy they are going to request. Mushroom ravioli with shaved parmesan and truffle oil? Chicken picatta with WOW risotto? Quinoa bolognese? Some of my creations are on their top ten list and I'm anticipating what they're going to request.

"Ok mom, my friend had these for dinner this week and they were awesome!"

Now I'm really curious. I love awesome food!

"So mom, we want SPAGHETTI TACOS!!"

Gasp! (Gag & vomit a little in my mouth) "WHAT???"

"Yeah mom, they talk about them on iCarly (TV show for pubescents) and they sound really good!"

Again, another glaring example of how I have failed as a mother. I thought I had trained them to have discretionary palates. Clearly they will eat out of the trash like the rest of America.

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning over my failure, I decide they should indeed have their wish. Because I am such a smart and wise parent I realize this will work like reverse psychology and I will look like the supportive, giving parent that I dream of being one day.

So there I am - tongs dangling with cooked spaghetti in one hand taco shell in the other. Grappling at what my kids have reduced me to. I decide they can stuff their own tacos and put the whole culinary menagerie on the table. Their delight is palpable, my despair is as well. They readily dig in, stuffing pasta into the shells like they've waited their entire lives for this gourmet marriage. For the record, before you get any ideas, this is not like the chocolate-meets-peanut butter marriage. I mean it is pasta and a taco shell.

Of course, Karma being what it is, Unnamed Child #1 has a dinner guest - so other people will know about this travesty. The guest even reports that they told their mother about our menu when asking if they could stay for dinner. There goes my lecture career.

The kids are oohing and ahhing and mmmmmmmming at their dinner...I'm trying to figure out how to take a bite without committing to a whole taco. I break off a piece of shell and tentatively taste the whole mess. In all honesty it was not bad, but it was not good either. As I'm crunching away our guest says,

"It tastes just like Chef Boyardee ravioli."

Niice. People are going to line up for my cooking classes to learn this crap.