Disclaimer: It's Amy again (Marta's oldest). I have yet again taken over my mom's blog. No, she's not sick or too busy, this is just a regular old hi-jacking. One day when I grow-up and have my very own blog . . . I will still come by from time to time and take-over. :-)
Every other Wednesday on my lunch break I make THE CALL. I call “La Cocinera” of Babalú Blog (who also happens to be my mom) and I ask, “Mom, what's for dinner?” and usually whatever she says gets me to say, “AWESOME, Can I come over?”
I don't really have to ask permission to come for dinner; it's an open invitation, provided that I turn off my phone and join them at the table for the meal. I know I could just wait and see (or smell!) the answer to my question when I show up, but that's not the point. The real question I should be asking (if I were being completely transparent and honest) is, “Mom, what am I having for lunch tomorrow . . . and how much can I taunt everyone I know about what I get to eat?”
If you are a regular reader, you know that my Mom cooks every other Thursday over at Babalú, but what you might not know is that she really does the cooking on Wednesday nights and therefore, I am a Marta's Cuban American Kitchen "double-beneficiary."
You see, she loves me (and my brother and my dad and anyone else we choose to invite to dinner) enough to make a surplus of the meal. Not only does she make the surplus, but when I'm saying my “Hasta Mañanas,” she always has a little brown bag waiting for me.
I remember that when I was young, bringing a home-made lunch to school was SOOOOO uncool, but it was worse if you brought it in a brown paper bag.
Now I light up with joy at the sight of the beloved brown paper bag! (can you just hear that angelic choir?) Now I am the envy of my co-workers! I am a Cuban golden goddess!
Do I share? OF COURSE NOT! I just tell the masses where they can find the recipes. :-)
Ok, ok . . . I confess that when Mom made the Torrejas a lo Refugiado I did take them to work and share. Plus, I always make people try my mariquitas and, if they're brave enough, a sip of my Materva.
Do I care that I'm 24 years old and my mom still packs my lunch? OF COURSE NOT! In fact, I just wish she cooked for Babalú everyday! ;-)
But can I tell you? Even on nights when Adam and I are alone with Lucy and Jon and dinner is fast-food, we all still sit down at the table and eat together. I know Mom has mentioned before about how important dinner time is to her and she successfully instilled that in us kids. Because of that, I think that we have a deeper sense of family then we would have otherwise had. So when you ask any of us about what kind of family we want “when we grow up,” we all say “a big family that always sits down to dinner together.”
(Besides, none of us mind having such delicious dinners again for lunch!)
To be perfectly honest, Mom cooks almost every night. Personally, I think it's just a ploy to get Adam and me to visit. And it works almost every time . . . Sure, there are those days when I miss dinner and just stop by later in the evening to pick up my lunch for the next day, but most of the time I go to Mom's immediately from work.
Then there's Adam, who sometimes works late and can't make it to dinner as often as I can, so he enlists me to pick up his brown bag and drop it off at his apartment on my way home.
The flaw in his brilliant plan? Adam's roommates have had my mom's cooking, and if they are home when I am making The Drop I can't ensure the safety of The Bag.
So, can you guess what I'm having for lunch today? :-)