Two days later, Ernie and I are beefed out. My dashing husband will come home to a household ready and willing to re-embrace his mainly-vegetarian ways.
On the way to school I asked Ernie, I asked him, “What should we have for dinner?”*
It was a loaded question. I knew the answer. Rather, I knew the two possible answers: dumplings or tortellini. And tortellini are just tiny little dumplings. My son comes by his love of dumplings honestly (a phrase, I must be note, that is horribly offensive because it clarifies that the person in question is not a bastard and demonstrates as much in having a characteristic clearly inherited from a biological parent…whatever) because I love nothing more than a bit of something wrapped in dough and fried, boiled, steamed, or baked. Hell, try grilling it if you want!
And so I went to Safeway and I bought him his beloved Barilla three-cheese tortellini. I was going to have a green salad and bread and cheese, but by the time dinner rolled around felt the need for a hot meal. So I tossed some weirdly dry but overcooked salty bits in very good Irish butter and poppyseeds and topped it with a pile of parmesan shredded on a microplane zester, creating a light and fluffy pile of cheese. You know what? It was not good. Ernie wolfed down his–plain (no butter! what are you trying to do? poison him?!?!) with just a touch of parm–and asked for more. There is no accounting for taste.
*After the tortellini answer, I asked what vegetable he would like with that. Answer: Farm carrots. Just plain farm carrots.
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