Fourth of July Foods

So much of this holiday week-end has been wrapped up around food. Brad is an incredible cook and, at Savannah's request, put together his famous barbecue ribs. The ribs attained celebrity status when Savannah was in high school and learned that she could sell them in the cafeteria for a sizable profit. He also treated us to grilled peaches topped with a raspberry sauce. My role in the kitchen is a little

dicier. Brad, trying to make me feel like I actually had the potential to contribute to this culinary enterprise, asked me to make a cool melon relish that accidentally turned out to be edible the last time I put it together. Savannah got another taste of what happens when her mother fails to properly read directions (again) after she spent over an hour meticulously chopping a cantaloupe melon and a honeydew melon into  tiny little pieces. Just as she finished, I glanced at the recipe and realized that we only actually needed a cup or two of each. She immediately resigned from her position as my sous chef. It's so hard to get reliable help.

Brad is particularly picky when it comes to potato salad. "No, I'm not," he said, rudely interrupting my important blog writing, "I just like it to taste good." For every one of my twenty-four years of marriage, I have tried (and failed) to make a potato salad that tastes "good." This year was not as epic a failure as in years past. It turns out that adding a pound of bacon can make almost anything taste better!

The requested watermelon shark sculpture became a family affair. Brad and Savannah became somewhat alarmed as my plans escalated from the original directions to include a jello jiggler ocean,

tropical candy fish and Barbie parts. Savannah began an assembly line of cherry "de-pittation" which then morphed into grape sorting. Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Brad gave me the important job of drawing the ferocious mouth on the watermelon and then promptly took the marker away from me and drew a new one. Brad's past pumpkin carving skills really came in to play here as he put our never-been-used-before melon baller to effective use, quickly removing round watermelon scoops until he was shoulder deep into the melon. More manly tools were also implemented when Brad brought out the level to ensure shark stabilization.  I ripped apart my generic "Barbie" which turned out to be quite cathartic and carefully placed a leg and an arm between the serrated teeth. Remembering the Mardis Gras tradition of baking a baby figurine into the King Cake, we decided to throw the dismembered head into the shark as well. The tiny pink shoes were responsibly discarded, deemed indigestible for those aged three and under.

Coming to class prepared and following directions are two areas of improvement that I address diligently with my students. When it comes to my kitchen skills, these two areas unfortunately also apply to me. An impromptu bonfire turned into a colossal embarrassment when all I had to offer to my group of ten guests was an inadequate number of six marshmallows.  We briefly considered breaking into the bag of miniature marshmallows but the prospect of sliding them onto the stick seemed silly.

Yes, I've seen the commercials. Yes, I know what the 4th of July is suppose to look like. Yes, we have considered going the more traditional route of weinies, baked beans, and chips. But like our forefathers, the Mosimans like to blaze their own trail. Occasionally, we'll encounter a few bumps in the road, fend off a few cougars or ford a few raging rivers but we continue making our way across the mountainous pass to the promise land of culinary delight. I know what you're thinking but don't worry. Brad packed so we are more than adequately supplied, we avidly avoid the Atkins diet, and should the weather appear troublesome, we'll pull over for some fast food to wait out the storm. Until then, I'm researching recipes that would put a doll-sized pair of pink pumps to good use.