Because I’m a Wicked Mother
“Mommmmmm, why did you have to make it so spicy?” whined Annie at last night’s dinner table. “It was just an accident dear,” I responded. The disgusted pout was just so precious on her teenage mug, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Adding insult to injury, Annie isn’t crazy about sweet red peppers, but she can tolerate them. She can even deal with a little bit of crushed red pepper. But this was all too much for her.
The dish was so spicy because I didn’t measure the crushed red pepper before adding it to this dish, that required a mere 1/4 teaspoon. It was a simple dinner, selected from the current “Bon Appetit” by Louisa, and I didn’t feel the need for precise measurements. There were diced red peppers, sauteed in olive oil with kalamata olives, chopped garlic, fresh basil, and the previously mentioned crushed red pepper. These were mixed with cooked linguine, some cooking water, plus a generous amount of grated parmesan cheese, salt and pepper.
I suppose it just looked like the right amount as I was shaking it. Perhaps I was having too much fun shaking my red pepper shaker over the saute pan. Or just maybe it was because I decided you needed to be tortured at dinner Annie, because it had been a while since you last whined at the table.
Let’s just chalk it up to the fact that I’m a wicked mother. You poor, unlucky child.
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4 Responses to “Because I’m a Wicked Mother”
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You are wicked. Subconsciously you are always trying to push the envelope (or shake the shaker as the case may be!)
Thanks for the vote of approval.
Beware the revenge of the daughters when they cook that special meal for you! (They might sneak a few red beets in there.)
You’re right, but luckily they don’t like red beets, either. I wonder why?