I’m not asking for much here. I’m home from university and all I’ve requested is that 2-3 times a day, I receive a home-cooked meal or maybe just a little love and appreciation. My mother thinks otherwise.
First of all, her presentation is weak. When I came down for dinner just the other night, the lasagna was carelessly slapped in the middle of the same chipped china plates I have been looking at since second grade, completely devoid of any garnish or other decor. Not to mention the wine pairing was sub-par—I would have preferred Vodka or even grape juice to the water she poured. I work too hard in my online classes to arrive home only to find out my mother now lives like a divorced man.
Secondly, and simply, preservatives. I’m no longer on the free and reduced lunch program, so a half pint of whole milk does not seem very alluring any longer. She knows I switched to almond milk years ago, yet here I am forced to eat my cheerios in a drink meant only for baby cows. I try as hard as I can to eat clean, eat simple, so you can imagine my horror at coming home to find canned beans, packaged pasta, and, dare I say it, ricearoni on the menu. I don’t think a “flour shortage” at the store is a good enough excuse for not making her own pasta. If corona doesn’t get me, I’m sure the nitrates will.