Norma's Homemade Banana Bar

January Twenty Four

Blame it on my Muse a 5 DAY Blog Challenge
January 24-28

DAY 1 PROMPT

You have to prepare a complex meal for a special occasion, all of your family and friends will be in attendance.

Oh, oh... You are completely out of every ingredient and you don't have time to go shopping. You have to send your muse out shopping, there's no other option.

What do you send your muse to shop for? What does your muse return with, and how does your dinner party turn out?



Pasta Carbon

Tonight I am making carbonara pasta for my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary. It’s their favorite meal. The story they tell is this was the meal over which they decided to get married. So tonight’s dinner had better be special.

Everyone is coming. Janie and crew, the neighbors across the street, Mom’s old friend Harriet. I expect about ten people.

This pasta is an easy fix. No problem. Pasta, cream, bacon in a creamy cheese sauce. What could be easier! So I check the pantry. It’s been a few weeks since I last shopped.

Pasta, not finding any. Really? How’d that not make it on the list? So to the fridge. Cream and bacon. Missing. Cream I can understand. But bacon?

There’s only about five hours to go. I have to clean my house. It’s a wreck. So I send Marie, my dear friend. She’s my muse, my most intimate friend.

“Okay, Marie, here’s the list. I need exactly these items. Bring me the receipts so I can pay you back.”

“Easy peasy. Shouldn’t take too long. See you in a bit.” And off she flew.

My list included:
1. dry pasta - spaghetti is best - at least a pound
2. garlic - fresh cloves - at least one head
3. eggs - at least a dozen - medium
4. cream - heavy
5. bacon - thin sliced
6. parmesan cheese - wedge for grating
7. Plus makings for a salad = lettuce, tomatoes, avocado, olives

I scurried about my house, cleaning, doing laundry, setting the table. At 3 PM, I expected Marie to return. The clocks read 3:15. Hmm. Time was slipping away. I prayed she wasn’t in an accident.

Finally at 4 PM Marie shows up, multiple grocery bags in tow.

“Sorry it took so long. Heck of a deal. Store shelves are almost empty. ‘Supply chain disruption’ the signs say. So I got what I could.”

We started to unpack the bags.

“What the heck, Marie? I sent you for eggs. What are these?”

“Only ones I could find. 100 year old eggs.”

“And this?”

“Oh, something new. Regular bacon was sold out. So I got you this plant-based bacon. It’s made from seaweed.”

I found squid ink pasta, black as night. Then black garlic, again, black as can be. Then something that looked like an alien.

“What in the world is this?”

“Buddha’s hand. It’s supposed to be a citrus something or other. I thought you could make it into a salad.”

I pulled out a container of some round, gelatinous appearing things.

“Oh those. Rocky Mountain Oysters. They’re supposedly a delicacy. I figured this is a special occasion, so why not?”

I took stock of the items filling the kitchen counter. Nothing I could use to make a meal. Time was running out. I felt like this was a cooking show competition, and I was just given the weirdest food in the world to use.

“Marie! How in the world am I to make a meal with this, these….”

“Wonderful gourmet treats?” She had a big smile for me.

I slammed the food on the counter.

“NO! WEIRD, STRANGE, things I cannot possibly make work. What were you thinking??”

“Um. That you’re a good cook who can make a gourmet meal from anything. You got this. Let’s cook!”

“Ugh. Fine. I guess I have no options. But you’re officially off my Christmas list next year.”

So we started making a pasta dish from black pasta, black garlic, fake bacon, funky green eggs. I found some leftover powdered coffee creamer for the sauce.There just happened to be some dried out, moldy Parmesan cheese in the back of the fridge. The dish came out looking like a Halloween trick or treat scare. Then the salad. Oh my. The Buddha’s hand I chopped into tiny pieces. Then I chopped and fried the Rocky Mountain Oysters, which I let Marie know were testicles of cows or sheep or pigs. She claimed she already knew that. Yeah right. We tossed those two things together in a vinegar and oil dressing.

The family gathered at the appointed time. I served the anniversary dinner.

“Well, mom and dad. You’ve weathered some storms. You’ve made it through 50 years. Congratulations. Now, if you can make it through my dinner, you’re truly champions in my eyes. So here we go.” I took a deep breath. “Tonight my family and friends, I present to you ‘Pasta Carbon’. This is a new version of Pasta Carbonara. Plus a salad named ‘Let’s Give them a Hand’. Bon Appetit!”

Everyone around the table took one look at the black pasta mess, the yellow salad mess. Eyebrows raised, but not one comment, until they ate the first bite.

All heads raised up and glanced my way. I just knew they would run to the door and leave. But…

“Amazing!”

“Such imagination. Who taught you to cook like this?”

“You’re the best chef in the world!”

“What in the world are those crispy things in that salad? Delish!”

“Black pasta, who knew!”

Second helpings all around. Who knew!

W/C 810