I had plans to have coffee with a friend Wednesday afternoon, and I told Emily she could come home by herself after school after rehearsing the long standing rules. Up until the past few weeks Emily, despite her pleading and assurances, has not been allowed to be home alone for longer than a short jaunt to the grocery store, so this was a big deal to her. She called when she got home, as requested, and a reminded her of a couple of chores that needed doing.
I arrived home about an hour later, and as I walked into the house I could smell cooking food-an aroma that did not match the leftovers in the fridge which could have been chosen as an after school snack. When I finally located my daughter in the kitchen she was in the process of preparing my coffee for the following day. I asked what I was smelling, not quite having registered the culinary explosion that was my kitchen. With a pleased smile she told me she had made dinner. She had found another package of ground chicken in the freezer and thawed it out (apparently she couldn't find any beef, although the deep freeze is well stocked with packets of ground bison). She then opened a pot on the stove and sadly stirred a creamy mass of something-it looked a little like watery Cream of Wheat, which she informed me was supposed to be mashed potatoes. She had taken it upon herself to bike to the store and purchase a package of instant mashed potatoes, since we had none. (I keep them around for topping casseroles like shepherd's pie) She said she didn't know what had gone wrong, so I asked if she had followed the directions on the box. As it turned out she had just put water in the pot, never considering there is a reason the directions specify 1 1/2 cups of water plus a half cup of milk. I stirred in the second packet of potatoes, which thickened it up nicely, while explained again the importance of following directions.
While I did this she reheated the ground chicken she had browned with an onion and added peas to, before stirring in a can of mushroom soup. I asked where her idea had come from, curious, since the only cookbooks out were my Company's Coming one, opened to the lobster bisque recipe, and a magazine insert dedicated to after school snacks, and this was neither. "From my binder," she informed me.
She has a recipe binder in which, for a time, she was inscribing copies of her culinary experiments. This was a version of the leftover turkey dish she made back in February ( http://viewfromhere68.blogspot.ca/2015/02/cooking-with-emily_17.html). I didn't point out we had used pasta, not mashed potatoes, at this point I figured it was better to go with the flow.
Personally I would have spooned the meat and gravy over the potatoes, but Emily stirred the mashed potatoes into the chicken & mushroom soup mixture. I'll confess it is not an appetizing appearing dish, but it did taste very good.
Although she had every reason to be pleased with her efforts, especially the reason behind them, to surprise me, she did receive a mild rebuke for using the stove when I wasn't home. When she protested I told her it was not her ability I was concerned about, but her safety. Kitchen fires and burns or cuts are easily incurred by them most skilled chefs and she is still lacking adequate knowledge to deal with any of those incidences.
Nonetheless, high praise is in order. My coffee was a trifle weak this morning too. Not too far off, but that's a lesson for another day. Who was I to complain when a cup was in my hand moments after I finally staggered out of bed this morning? She's a good kid, and generous to a fault, and I have no doubt she is fully aware of her upcoming birthday as well as her new more "grown up" privileges., which I suspect has something to do with this recent flurry of helpfulness.....not that I am complaining in any way. Help in any form is appreciated!
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