Dinner Plans
"What do you want for dinner Saturday evening?" I asked my dad, via an email message.
He promptly wrote back: "How about a turkey burger on a rye bun?"
"I can do that. But mom won't want that. Would she like a regular hamburger, do you think?"
"Yes."
And so, on the next shopping trip, I bought ground turkey. I could not find rye buns, so I chose wheat instead. Knowing that my mom does not like wheat buns, I threw a bag of white buns in the basket. The action felt sacrilegious: we don't eat white bread or buns. But this was my mom. I'd get her what she liked. Thankfully, I did not need to buy hamburger. Mom said she'd bring enough for one patty. Any more meat in this house, and you'd never know that mostly vegetarians lived here.
After a long day of heat, fun, and pool, I prepared the turkey burger for cooking.
"Mom, where is the hamburger? I will make the patty and cook it," I said. "The buns are right there."
"That's okay," she replied. "I don't feel like one. I'll just have a salami sandwich instead. Let's keep it simple."
Simple would be to eat what I bought, I thought, but I held my tongue.
Dinner progressed, with the children entertaining the older folk around the table. As we were about to clear the dishes, I thought I'd ask my dad about the meal.
"Hey dad, how was the turkey burger?"
"It was okay. The spices were right, but I wouldn't have it again."
What? "Was this the first time you've had a turkey burger?" Based on his email, I thought he ate them often, and was looking forward to eating one.
"Yep."
"Do you want the rest of it to take home? I bought a full pound of ground turkey," I said.
"Not really," dad said. And if you know my dad, you know the tone of his voice right there. The discussion had ended. We were stuck with the turkey. And the white buns. Which all might still be in the freezer, wrapped in burn and ice, the next time mom and dad come to visit.
The things we do for family.
He promptly wrote back: "How about a turkey burger on a rye bun?"
"I can do that. But mom won't want that. Would she like a regular hamburger, do you think?"
"Yes."
And so, on the next shopping trip, I bought ground turkey. I could not find rye buns, so I chose wheat instead. Knowing that my mom does not like wheat buns, I threw a bag of white buns in the basket. The action felt sacrilegious: we don't eat white bread or buns. But this was my mom. I'd get her what she liked. Thankfully, I did not need to buy hamburger. Mom said she'd bring enough for one patty. Any more meat in this house, and you'd never know that mostly vegetarians lived here.
After a long day of heat, fun, and pool, I prepared the turkey burger for cooking.
"Mom, where is the hamburger? I will make the patty and cook it," I said. "The buns are right there."
"That's okay," she replied. "I don't feel like one. I'll just have a salami sandwich instead. Let's keep it simple."
Simple would be to eat what I bought, I thought, but I held my tongue.
Dinner progressed, with the children entertaining the older folk around the table. As we were about to clear the dishes, I thought I'd ask my dad about the meal.
"Hey dad, how was the turkey burger?"
"It was okay. The spices were right, but I wouldn't have it again."
What? "Was this the first time you've had a turkey burger?" Based on his email, I thought he ate them often, and was looking forward to eating one.
"Yep."
"Do you want the rest of it to take home? I bought a full pound of ground turkey," I said.
"Not really," dad said. And if you know my dad, you know the tone of his voice right there. The discussion had ended. We were stuck with the turkey. And the white buns. Which all might still be in the freezer, wrapped in burn and ice, the next time mom and dad come to visit.
The things we do for family.
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