One of the only parts I hated about taking care of a growing family was the nightly question of “What’s for dinner?” I don’t mind shopping, carting, or emptying bags of groceries. I count the scars I gathered shopping with kids, you know the kind that happens when a child slams a cart into the back of your heels, as marks of honor. I love cooking, the smell of onions in the hot oil, the tactile pleasure of knife and board… it feels like home to me.
But, I hate figuring out what is for dinner! I don’t know what is for dinner, I’ve planned approximately 1 million dinners and basically, everyone hates something. Pick it off, scrape it out, or make a pb&j… but don’t ask me to figure out what to make.
Lately, I’ve been enjoying this blog with lots of ordinary and different answers to the perennial question. Recently, I saw a recipe for salmon patties. I remember loving these when I was a little girl in my grandma Zehrung’s kitchen, but I haven’t had this dish since before 1980. I gathered the ingredients and pulled it together for dinner the other night. It was delicious. I was nervous because Keith and canned fish have a rocky history, but he liked it too.