You Just Never Know

In a family of any size, there are bound to be differences.

'Specially in the realm of food. There are sure to be differing taste buds.

Not only that, but there are likely to be different philosophies. Everybody has a philosophy about eating, ya know. One person is a vegetarian, another eats only organic, another won't eat dairy, another buys their flour from the store, but grows their own veggies, another righteously defends vitamin supplements, and another is more casual about their approach to health foods. Still others eat whatever they like.

I think our family has a fairly balanced approach to the whole food thing; we want to take care of our bodies, as they are temples of the Holy Spirit, but we don't want to grow legalistic, or spend too much money perusing health. We all agree on those things.

Yet within that broad definition, there is room for variation. Some of us are more concerned about health than others. I am fascinated by anatomy, and am very interested in how different foods affect different parts of the body. That's fun and interesting to me. My brothers, on the other hand, are more interested in how the food tastes. They don't care if the butter crunch lettuce has more nutrients than the ice burg; it's a vegetable, and they want to please their taste buds. :)

These differing "philosophies," if you will, are not necessarily wrong. But they do create interesting supper discussions. :) I am learning that having a happy peaceful meal is more important than satisfying my idea of a healthy meal. There is a balance, you know.

I see creating foods that are healthy and taste good as a challenge - and I like a challenge. When I have a turn making a meal, I am always experimenting. My brothers are the hardest to please, and therefore their good opinion is the one I strive the hardest to gain. Most of the time, the vote goes against me. Not in an unpleasant way, but they just tell me nicely that they liked the old recipe better.

Making stock was one of those experiments. I was trying to avoid the stuff in store-bought broth. Using some of the stock, I made condensed cream-of-chicken-(ahem, I mean turkey)-soup. We used to use that quite often in casseroles, but Mom has cut down on that because of the MSG in the soup. I thought it would really please my family if I could come up with good cream-of-chicken-soup that had no MSG, so we could continue making those yummy casseroles.

But you know what? I didn't have much hope. I mean, really, condensed cream-of-chicken-soup is one of those things that just tastes better out of a tin can. And on top of that, I would be using whole wheat flour to thicken the soup, instead of white flour.
I made 1 and 1/2 quarts of the condensed soup. I put it in the refrigerator, and asked Mom to try making something with it so I could assess the response and decide whether to make more.

I'd already tried making this recipe once before. It burned really bad, and I made a casserole with it anyway.

Really.

Bad decision.

End of that story.

So I was nervous to see how this next batch would go over.

Mom used the soup in a casserole last night.

I smelled it as I walked in the kitchen, and immediately steeled myself for the response I knew I would get.

"What's IN this?"

"What did you do to this casserole, Mom?"

"What's different?"

We sat down, prayed over the food, and began. I had my apologizes at the front of my mouth, ready to spill out as soon as the comments began.

They didn't come.

I kept glancing down the table at my brothers (and my father).

Curtis was eating eagerly.

Justin looked like he was enjoying it. (And this casserole had BROCCOLI in it!)

Dad said it first; "This is good."

[Insert clattering noise here; Amber's jaw is hitting her plate.]

Amber: "W-w-what?"

Curtis: "Yeah; I like it. Is that stock I'm tasting?"

Justin: "It tastes like bologna." (You must understand that Justin loves bologna.)

Amber: "Curt, did you say you did or didn't like it?"

Curtis: "Did."

Amber: "Did."

[Insert a soft "splat" noise here. Amber's bulging eyes have joined her jaw.]

It all goes to show that, when it comes to boys' tastes buds, you just never know.

What was I worried about?