Sunday, March 29, 2009
I was in first grade. My parents, younger sister and baby brother were all living in student housing known as College View Apartments in College Station, Texas. I'm not sure why the babysitter had left early, but supper needed to be prepared and I felt like as the oldest person the house, then I needed to get busy and cook something. It had to be... yes, carrot balls. I grabbed carrots from the refrigerator and a grater from the cabinets. Somehow I made it through grating the carrots without cutting myself. I mashed the grated carrots together with margarine, rolling them into balls the size of a small egg. I drug a chair over to the small gas stove, lit a match and turned on the stove. I poured olive oil into a frying pan and proceeded to fry the "carrot balls" until crisp. I had only fried a few when my parents came in from work. Thank goodness their reaction was not one of terror, however, I'm not sure what kept them from doing so. We can only imagine what might possibly have happened... a seven year old leaning over a frying pan full of hot oil... with carrots sizzling away. My mother thanked me for starting supper and said that she would be glad to help me. My father even acted pleased. As the years having passed I realize now that had they reacted quite differently I might never have felt encouraged to ever cook again! As a matter of fact, I enjoy cooking and know that my parents were always quick to cheer me on with my culinary endeavors.
Posted by Karen at 10:10 PM