Fiesta for one

by Katie on March 25, 2010

I’m not sure why so many of our stories around here revolve around food, eating and mealtime, but that seems to be a rather prominent trend. Maybe it’s because some days, mealtime is the only time we really see each other to engage in conversation.
Anyway, …I’ll start getting to the point.
If there’s anything we try to manipulate in our schedules, we make a solid attempt at sharing supper together. At home. At the same time. Pretty close to every night.
But, supper time on the farm can be…unpredictable. At best.
So we both do little things to help this happen. I try to plan ahead as best I can so that even if I get summoned to my tractor driving post in the late afternoon, we have something semi-prepared, or at least have the meat thawed out, don’t have to make a grocery run, that sort of thing.
We check in with each other mid-afternoon to get a game plan for the evening (who’s finishing up which chores, etc.) and an estimated arrival time for Brandon. To at least give me something to shoot for as far as meal preparation. So we don’t have to eat cold food or wait on something to finish cooking that causes us to be late for a water change. Most of the time, anyway.
Lastly, Brandon gives a “warning call” when he’s feeding or heading this way. This is when I usually pop the bread in the toaster oven if it’s part of our meal, start warming both our plates if the food happened to be ready early that day, or make any other sort of final touches.
But all this planning and preparation?
Went out the window earlier this week.
This is where I really get to the point.
Now, Brandon did call to check in a couple hours before he planned to arrive home. And told me he had just eaten “two monster burritos” at his parents’ house that were “Like, so big I couldn’t finish the second one.”
So, you could say I got a warning. But the thing is? Some Most days, he’s about as close as they come to a bottomless pit. So two burritos at 4 in the afternoon? Doesn’t necessarily put a damper on his dinner consumption plans.
I continued making the Mexican Fiesta Pizza I had planned. Admittedly, not the tastiest thing we’ve ever had around here. But it was a Pampered Chef recipe (the kind that come with their cookware) and it would use up two things we had in the fridge that were on their last lag. It was one of those maintenance meals. Nothing to write home about.
Regardless, I made this Fiesta Pizza. For the two of us. And I waited for Brandon to arrive home.
He walks in the door, starts talking to me, stops at the kitchen counter, picks up a piece of Fiesta Pizza, and eats it. No big deal. I’m okay with appetizers before we sit down. I get a couple of plates out.
Only, he says, “Oh, no. I’m done. That’s all I need. Monster burritos, remember?”
I cock my head a bit, drop my jaw, and send not-so-nice eyes his way.
“Uh, something wrong with that? I warned you I ate those burritos.”
“No, it would be fine, but now I have to go sit at the table and eat the supper I made for us by myself, because you just ate yours standing up here.”
“Oh, you were waiting for me?”
Like this was some sort of new idea! Something he didn’t expect. Something we don’t go to great lengths to plan. Something he doesn’t nearly insist upon, even if it means we have to eat at 9pm occasionally.
He did sit at the table with me while I ate. But I’m not so sure that was really optional.

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