Freedom, Responsibility and Filling 'Er Up

The day before yesterday, I watched as a stranger drove away in my car. Had it been necessary, I’d have had no problem picking him out of a line-up; he was an exceptionally fit young man, tanned, blue eyes, sporting his brown hair in what appeared to be a fresh buzz cut.

It was Carter, of course, my 16-year-old son. And I’d even helped wield the razor on that buzz cut. Still, the sight rocked me back on my sensible mom heels. I blinked – more than once – as if I could “refresh” my vision the same way you “refresh” a website – but nope, there he was, backing cautiously out of the driveway before driving himself to school.

What a week.

In the space of a few days, Carter earned his driver’s license, interviewed for and was offered a summer job (lifeguard), and shaved his distinctive shaggy brown hair into a high and tight buzz. The transformation couldn’t have been more remarkable than if he’d morphed from a black-and-yellow-striped caterpillar into a Monarch butterfly.

In more ways than one, though, I guess he did get his wings – lots of freedom wrapped up in lots and lots of responsibility.

He’s not the only one. I got more freedom wrapped up in even more responsibility, too. On the one hand, having another driver in the household slashes my chauffeuring duties in half. On the other, I can hardly form a complete thought when I know he’s on the road. And I pity the innocent soul who calls when I know Carter is en route. Before I can eek out a frantic “hello,” I’ve already imagined countless “what if” scenarios – none of which bear repeating here.

I’m proud and terrified. Excited and devastated. Thrilled and saddened.

I love my boy. And I need him to know that he still needs me. But then, unexpectedly, I get a text message, “What side of the car is my gas tank on again?”

Sigh. Not exactly what I was looking for, but yep -- he still needs me.

Salmon With Curried Cauliflower Couscous

When Carter was little, his most-requested birthday meal was grilled salmon, sliced cucumbers and steamed broccoli.  This meal is somewhat more sophisticated -- appropriate, perhaps for someone earning his first paycheck.

Grilled Salmon

salmon filets

rice wine vinegar

hoisin sauce

kosher salt

fresh ground pepper

Sprinkle fish liberally with rice wine vinegar (or, in a pinch, squeeze fresh lemon wedges over).  Baste with hoisin sauce, and season well with salt and pepper.  Grill skin side down, over indirect heat, about 10 minutes, or just until done.  Try not to overcook.

Curried Cauliflower Couscous

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1 1/2 cup uncooked Israeli couscous

1 (14 ounce) can chicken or vegetable broth

2 cups raw cauliflower, broken into small bitesize pieces

1 teaspoon curry powder

1 pinch red pepper flakes

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

In a lidded saucepan, heat oil over medium high heat.  Stir in raw couscous and sauté 3-4 minutes.  Stir in broth, cauliflower, curry, salt and red pepper flakes.  Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and cook 6-7 minutes.  Stir, remove from heat, and allow to stand an additional five minutes (or until all liquid is absorbed) before serving with salmon.

Mom vs. Chick Fil A. And The Winner Is ...

I may be a 48-year-old single mom, but you may call me The Conqueror, for I have vanquished Chick Fil A.

OK. “Vanquish” may be a tad aggressive, but you be the judge.

Sixteen-year-old Son called (by which, of course, I mean “texted”) me after track practice. He was riding home with a friend and wanted to know if he could stop for his usual “number five combo, large, 12-count with Dr. Pepper.” And no, I’m not embarrassed to know his order by heart. I’m only embarrassed to admit it.

So could he stop for dinner? “Well sure,” I tapped back, “as long as you use your own money.”

A few minutes passed  – almost surely because I rank rock-bottom in the texting cue – before I heard back from him, “np” (no problem).

Doggedly, I clicked on, “The thing is, I’ve already made dinner.”

Another few minutes passed, reminding me of my low texting rank, before he asked, “What did you make?”

This was like shooting fish in a toilet bowl -- ridiculously easy, although not always advisable. On this night, though, I knew I had a winner. Just for effect, I paused before typing back, “Not So Dirty Rice.”

His response was instant, “Oh. haha nevermind i’ll just grab a milkshake and eat with you.”

Game, set and match. Cheri: 1, Chick Fil A: 0 – provided you don’t count the previous 1,314 encounters.

Still, on this night, I emerge victorious.

Pardon me while I bask.

I’ve already posted the recipe for Not So Dirty Rice, but this Simple Red Rice With Shrimp – without any suspicious tomato bits – is another surefire winner Chez Wiles. 

Simple Red Rice With Shrimp 

1 onion, chopped

1 rib celery, chopped

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 cup raw rice

1 14-oz can chicken broth

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon Tabasco sauce

1 8-oz can tomato sauce

1/4 water

1 lb. raw shrimp, shelled

In a large skillet with fitted lid, sauté onion and celery over medium heat until onion is translucent.  Stir in rice, broth, salt and Tabasco.  Reduce heat to low.  Put lid in place and gently cook for 10 minutes.  Remove from heat and gently stir in tomato sauce, water and shrimp.  Replace lid and cook an additional 10 minutes until rice is done and liquid absorbed.

Divorce Etiquette For Every Day Use.

On the bookshelf in the house where I grew up, there was, snugly tucked between Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary, and Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid To Ask), a copy of Amy Vanderbilt's Complete Book of Etiquette.

Go ahead and laugh, but as a teenager, I all but memorized Miss Vanderbilt’s 700-page opus. I mastered the proper placement of seafood forks and marrow spoons. I understood that a "real" lady would never deign to use stationery pre-printed with the words “thank” or “you.” I was primed to meet both elected officials and foreign royalty. And should I ever be invited to travel abroad with the family of a boarding school pal, I was poised to prepare, or at least host at a fine restaurant, a dinner party to convey my gratitude.

As it turns out, though, my real life hasn't required a single curtsey.  My most used seafood utensils are my fingers.  I wouldn't know where to procure a pair of everyday white gloves – much less ones (with delicate embroidery and fastened with a single pearl) for formal occasions. And “boarding school pals”? Puh-leeze.

Not that there isn’t a profound need for etiquette in our society. There is. However, I think we need to hone our manners and civility on more practical and useful levels.  The guide for me, for example, might be titled, Divorce Etiquette for Every Day (DEED).

DEED might help me deftly maneuver such tricky situations as, how to refer to the person to whom one once was married? “My ex” can sound harsh and oddly possessive, yet “the kids’ father” might imply children born out of wedlock.

DEED would also provide examples of how to respond to someone (i.e., everyone) who questions the reason for divorce. “We grew apart” doesn't work.  We're not shrubs, we're humans. And yet “Our other option was dueling machetes at high noon” plainly cuts a little too close to the bone.

And what about situational divorce etiquette? How best, for example, to handle a phone call from one’s former spouse, in which he asks if you’ll drive him to the emergency room?  If only I had a copy of the DEED in hand right now. Seriously. Because I'm currently in the emergency room. With the person to whom I was once married.

If I remember correctly (and I trust me, I do) Miss V. doesn't broach this particular topic.

Please. Of course I drove him to the ER. And after a couple of tests, a couple of prescriptions, a couple of hours, and a couple of confused looks from the ER staff, I drove him back to his home. Who wouldn’t?

But now what? Where’s Miss V when I really need her? Do I call tomorrow to check on him? Do I offer to have prescriptions filled? Do I call his family to let them know?

It’s a sticky one, but in the end, I’m guessing I'll do what I always do: cook. This quiche is one that I often make for folks in "times of need."  It's a complete meal that can be eaten hot, at room temperature, or straight from the fridge -- with or without utensils.

No etiquette required. 

Shrimp & Broccoli Quiche

• One unbaked pie shell (I use Pillsbury's)
• 1 1/2 cups cooked, peeled shrimp, well-drained and cut into bite-size pieces
• 1 1/2 cups lightly steamed broccoli florets, well-drained and cut into bite-size pieces
• 1 1/2 cups grated gruyere cheese
• 1 1/2 cups half and half
• 3 eggs
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Preheat oven to 350.  In medium mixing bowl, whisk eggs together.  Stir in half and half, salt and cayenne pepper and combine well.  Sprinkle half of grated cheese in bottom of pie shell.  Top with broccoli, then shrimp, then remaining cheese.  Pour egg mixture evenly over all.  Bake for 30-35 minutes, until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.