Mama’s Little Id

Not-Cheese-Pie

A week of rain always makes me feel terribly guilty about my lack of creativity regarding indoor toddler-appropriate activities. So when Billy the Kid announced he wanted “cheese pie” while watching an episode of Angelina Ballerina (all characters are mice – I know the American Cheese Council has a hand in this), I jumped at the chance to make what he wanted for dinner with him. In my book, “cheese pie” means someone’s selling quiche to a small child. I’d never actually made one but only because I always forget about them as a dinner option. My mother’s sister, the unparalleled Mrs. V.P, makes a quiche that hints there just might be a heaven after all, and when she hosts a lunch, I find that I’m glad I don’t generally seek it out elsewhere, because I don’t think any other could compare. I found a straight-forward enough undertaking on none other than Simply Recipes, so I strapped everyone into their respective car seats, then at the market, their respective cart seats.

Since “cheese pie” would somehow have to encompass dinner, I selected a quiche that called for a variety of BK-approved ingredients, like bacon and chopped sautéed mushrooms that I added to the recipe (I’ll admit, though, they can be a wild card). Even forgoing the classy but pungent gruyère for a foolproof cheddar, I have no idea what possessed me to assume I could get away with a sprinkling of green herb, and sure enough, although he prepared it with me and witnessed every single item’s incorporation, BK stared with perplexed fury at his slice of not-cheese-pie he found at the dinner table.

After explaining, bargaining, guilting and sighing passive-aggressively, I pulled out all of the foreign bodies from the top half of BK’s slice, so that he could have exactly what his ballerina mouse friend had eaten for lunch. The clash of wills anticlimactically resolved, my charming but belligerent heir immediately switched tactics to absolute refusal to eat. Cue bed-time call, tantrum, wails, pleas, demands, and, finally, my put-this-day-in-the-ground nightcap.

Once I got around to eating my first slice of the since chilled product this afternoon, my lingering resentment disappeared, and I’m pleased to report quiche just acquired a bi-weekly menu slot. Cheese pie, my britches.

Happy (and trying really hard to not be underwhelmed) Presidents Day!

President’s Day Breakfast for Dinner

A nicely heaping plate of blueberry pancakes, pure maple syrup, Adobo-seasoned eggs over medium and cast-iron-fried bacon seems adequately presidential, as far as I’m concerned. I recommend the standard Bisquick box recipe, but add a little sugar and vanilla, and just a pinch of cinnamon. For the eggs, a light sprinkling of Adobo over the tops as they fry is plenty, and I always cook them just until the whites are done to maximize yolk-dipability for my bacon, each strip of which is brown and crisp, save for the chewy 1/4″ fat-tails. Real maple syrup is essential, considering the heartiness of the meal; that amber-colored corn syrup that Butterworth and her kind sling will have you unconscious one third of the way through your plate. Yeah, that’s right; Aunt Jemima’s not a victim. She’s this guy’s avatar, so pay the extra $2 every other month. You know he does.

Michael F. Barry, CEO Quaker