Which is worse, quiche for dinner or stitches between the eyes?
I always thought I was a decent cook. Not “food network is knocking at your door” material, but I could hold my own. As it turns out, I’m worse than a hole in the face.
My first hint came when the kids were little. We were sitting at the table listening to them whine about dinner and in exasperation Rick says “Listen, I eat plenty of things I don’t like around here and you don’t hear me complaining”. Sheesh, thanks for the help.
But I went along my merry way, until one night, 6 years ago, when I made quiche for dinner. I remember that it was winter. Rick was still at work, Jason was in the garage skateboarding (as usual), and Justin was watching TV. Without screaming or crying or fanfare of any kind, Jason comes into the kitchen from the garage and says “Mom, mom, look, I hurt myself”. That was an understatement. There was a hole in his face that I was trying not to throw up in and I could see cartilage.
Turns out in an emergency I panic. OK, truth be told first I turn off the oven, then I panic. I convinced Justin, who was unwilling to leave his TV show, that he had to come NOW and we went off in the car. I’d like to say that we went right to Children’s hospital, but my brain was not functioning. First we went to where an Urgent Care used to be but it wasn’t there any more, now there was a hospital in its place. So I left (no, I do not know what the heck I was thinking) and went to a Children’s Urgent Care. That wasn’t open yet so I went to a third Urgent Care. We didn’t wait our turn, they took one look at Jason and brought him in back. The doctor said what I actually somewhere in my brain knew, “this is a child’s face, take him to Children’s Hospital”.
At Children’s Hospital they stitched up my son’s face. Brave Mom that I am, I held his hand (while both facing away and shutting my eyes, just in case). A few times the Doctor had to move Justin’s face out of the way as Justin watched each stitch intently, but eventually cartilage was covered. Compassionate Mom that I am, the whole way home my kids got to listen to me say over and over “don’t ever do that to Mommy again. Please, please don’t ever do that to Mommy again”.
When we got home, I wasn’t thinking about dinner. I let the kids fix themselves a sandwich whenever they got hungry. It had been a traumatic evening. What I didn’t realize is that the boys deemed the episode well worth it to get out of having quiche. Years later, once I got over the correlation in my head between quiche and stitches and tried again to make quiche, the boys threatened to do something to require stitches to again get out of that particular dinner.
And that brings us to the Monkey Bread. I made it once and they loved it. So now if I want quiche, I just make a Monkey Bread to go with it as a bribe…I mean consolation prize. .. I mean palatable (get it?) option to stitches. But just for the record, real men DO...
16 Rhodes Texas Rolls, semi defrosted enough to cut into quarters
½ small pkg vanilla pudding mix
Melt together: 1 stick butter, 1 cup brown sugar, and 2 tsp cinnamon
*Grease bundt pan. Roll quarters of texas rolls in pudding mix. Place into bundt pan.
*Pour melted butter mix over top. Lay damp towel over top and put into cold oven. (You may want to put tin foil under pan).
*Leave for 5 hours (or overnight).
*Remove towel and leaving pan in, turn oven on to 350 degrees. Cook for 30 minutes loosely covering top with foil for last 15 minutes.
*Remove from oven and cook 15 minutes before inverting out of pan.
Originally posted on Baking In A Tornado:
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