Chili-cheese Fries: The Awesomeness of Motherhood
Some days parenthood is just a downright chore. The tiny (or not so tiny) people we have created and nurtured can pick the most inopportune times to express their wills or develop a sudden aversion to things that were previously “go-to” items. Some days, on the other hand, are awesome. My favorite “oh-yeah- this-is-why- I-do-this” days are the ones where me and The Boy are fully ensconced in our own world of inside jokes and random silliness. Most of these times happen when we have to do something other people would dread, like grocery shopping or going to the laundromat or the dreaded slog to and from school. We -usually- revel in these. Many times we have turned our hour long commute into an impromptu musical, with the occasional bit of dancing thrown in if we have to stop. I could rationalize this and say, these are teachable moments about rhythm and timing- but they aren’t. We are just a goofy, goofy pair. I love that about our relationship. We share very similar senses of humor and I must say his comedic timing is impeccable for a nine year old. I enjoy having the kind of bond that allows us to have inside jokes and running gags (Doot-doot-mwat). It’s one of the things that makes single-parenthood cope-able for me.
An old boss of mine once said that all parents give their kids issues, good parents are aware of which ones. I don’t mind that soon I may not be able to dance down the aisles of the grocery store or suddenly shout out “GREAT FLAMING EYEBROWS!” without him shrinking away in embarrassment, because once he gets past that he’ll hopefully know not to take every-little-thing so seriously. Which brings me to chili-cheese fries.
To those unfamiliar with the culinary wonder that is the chili-fry, let me explain this particular brand of ambrosia. It is exactly what is sounds like, a layer of fries topped with chili then smothered in cheese. Growing up in Detroit it is a staple of the Coney Island restaurant, but lately people seem to be embracing it. I indoctrinated my son with this wonder of American ingenuity a couple years ago, and now there is no looking back. We like ours with a healthy mix of tangy mustard and ketchup and not too much salt. The chili has to be top notch, not to thin or thick and a good meat to bean ratio. The fries need to be able to stand up to the chili bath and not disintegrate into mush. When this is done correctly, it is pure guilty pleasure nirvana. In other words- perfect for Fun Friday Dinner.
Fun Friday Dinner is my parental guilt free solution. On Fridays I don’t worry about green vegetables, or protein or carbs or whatever. It’s just fun food. No fights, no “eat 3 more bites”, it’s something we can indulge in 1 night a week. To have proper chili for FFD that meant I had to start Thursday night. Just as cooking was about to commence, my father called. He wanted to take The Boy up north for the weekend. Cheerfully he accepted and after a few more pleasantries (neither one of them are talkers) got off the phone. Then it occurred to him- if he was leaving the next afternoon- NO FUN FRIDAY DINNER and more importantly NO CHILI CHEESE FRIES! I must admit that I was a little pleased that my tradition, or at least cooking, ranked up there with traipsing around the woods, but I had to stop the panic before it got out of hand. So to compromise I would pack his CCF’s in his lunch and I’d eat mine for dinner so we could both have them for Fun Friday Meal. That was satisfactory and crisis averted. That moment just reminded me how special our bond is and how very much like chili cheese fries it is. It’s gooey, cheesy and over the top; it’s irrational and delicious; and sometimes- especially when it wakes you up in the middle of the night, it feels like it just might kill you.