A One-Act Play

The following little scene happened a few months ago and describes one of the moments of drama that we experience now and again in our quiet little household. We remember it with amusement now.

A ONE-ACT PLAY

Scene: Husband and wife are standing in kitchen, peering into food cabinet.

Husband: What do you feel like eating?

Wife: What is there to eat? We're out of everything.

Husband: There's a can of refried beans on the second shelf. Could you make something with that?

Wife: I wish we had some tortillas. We could have beans and tortillas.

Husband: Couldn't you make some? See if there's a recipe in Joy of Cooking.

Wife looks in book and finds recipe for tortillas.

Wife: reading aloud: Two cups of corn meal, one cup of warm water and pinch of salt. Mix together with hands and make 12 balls. Flatten with plate. Fry in skillet. Sounds easy enough. We do have corn meal.

Husband measures carefully. After washing hands, he follows instructions and mixes corn meal and water and attempts to make balls. Corn meal and water crumble and fall all over the countertop, and husband scrapes it all back up into bowl and looks helplessly at wife.

Wife: Try adding more water. Make it warmer.

Husband adds more water and gets mush. He tries to drain it on paper towels and finally throws the whole mess in the trash basket.

Wife: You must have measured wrong. Try again.

Husband: Read the recipe again.

Wife: 2 cups corn flour, l cup water, pinch of salt.

Husband utters cry of indignation. You said corn meal. The recipe says corn flour. You read the recipe wrong.

Wife wordless cleans up mess and washes dishes. They eat toast and refried beans and scrambled eggs.

Did I learn anything from this experience? I learned to keep more supplies on hand. I learned to read recipes more carefully. And I learned that toast and beans aren't bad, after all.

Growing up on a little farm miles from the nearest town, we often had to make do with what we had on hand. Sometimes the results of my mother's innovations were remarkably tasty. One example is her emergency hasty pudding mix, made of white flower and water, served with canned blueberries or milk and cinnamon. She could cook up a squirrel stew to feed the whole family and leave us feeling as though we had just eaten a feast. Her venison roasts were as tasty as anything one could get in a fancy restaurant. Why I am not a good or enthusiastic cook I will never know. Meantime, I am trying to learn to at least read the recipes.