Chef Nana

I am here, my long awaited trip to babysit my Perfect Grandchildren while my daughter, accompanied by my son-in-law, attends a professional conference.  The children have been excited.  I’ve been excited!  My four-year-old grandson has talked and talked to his parents about my cooking.  Believe me, this is a surprise to us all. 

Yes, I often have a cooking activity when I’m with my grandchildren.  Once, flipping through my neighbor’s children’s cookbook (she, unlike me, gets great joy and satisfaction from cooking for and feeding people), I found a recipe for banana caterpillars.   They had a great time making them,but at the time, Alan didn’t like peanut butter, so he wouldn’t eat his.  At Christmas, we made a gingerbread house.  (I bought a kit.  On sale).  After the holiday, I put the house down on a clean tablecloth and gave them a hammer.  Bam!  Those things taste like cardboard, but there was enough sugar and candy that they scarfed it down anyway. I’ll stamp out a few cookies with them, too, and let them drizzle them over with watery powdered sugar colored with food coloring.  I can be fun, but I’m hardly the epitome of grandmotherly baking.

    

In any case,  when he greeted me at the airport, Alan’s first question was, was I going to cook that evening.  No, not for two more days, after his parents left.  I do not not cook when I visit.  I’m not entirely devoid of shame, I do cook when I have visitors, or I, you know, call for takeout.  Still, when we picked Alan up at daycare the next day, the daycare worker said she had heard I was going to cook.  Somehow, I’ve made an impression.

When Alan went to daycare the next day, Suzie, who was on Spring break, went to the older kids’ camp.  I checked with my daughter, "Did you tell them you and their Dad would be gone when I pick them up?"

"Yes."

“What was their reaction?”

“Yay.”

So that part was okay.  I picked them up early, still puzzling over what I was going to prepare for dinner.  We played outside for a while, and I settled them in front of a cartoon while I went to work in the kitchen.  Eggs are okay for dinner, right?  Then Egg-in-a hole it is, with the heart shaped cut-outs toasted and served on the side and a few fresh strawberries on the plate.  Suzie was enthusiastic.  Alan glowed.  They ate every bite.

Chef Nana, that’s me.  I may cook with desperation, but you all know the secret ingredient: love.