What's for dinner?

If you're like me (that is a 36 year old woman who just quit her well paying job to stay at home and raise kids again... AKA the "mom") you hate this question.

Why do moms hate this question so much?

*If you're a mom and you don't hate this question, please send me a message. ASAP. I need to know your secret.

I didn't use to mind it so much I guess. But over the years I began to dread it. Around 3 pm I'd know it was coming and I'd just wait for it....

"MOM. What's for dinner? I'm STARVING."

Why are kids always starving?

Anyway. I don't know why it became such an annoying question but at some point I started to hate hearing it and began to contemplate alternate answers to the truth. For example: Purina Puppy Chow. Or, liver and onions (which I've never cooked. Ever.). Or, fried frogs. Dream something up. I guarantee you I've said we're having it for dinner. Even if it was a lie. Once I said sauteed poop. That made them quiet in a hurry.

So the question already came today. It was 9 am and it came from the 12 year old. "Mom, what are we having for dinner?"

Here's the answer:


Grab a spoon son. Dig in.

Yep. That's lard. Or manteca as they call it. Lard. It's not pretty but there it is.

We aren't just eating lard. For the record.

Breathe. It's ok. My granny cooked with lard and she lived to be 90. She probably would have lived to be 100 if she hadn't drank so much moonshine. She weren't afraid of no dern lard. Or bacon. Or fried just about anything. Or earthquakes for that matter. But that's another story for another day. In any case, for this reason, I stand firm in the belief, it's less what you eat and more what you do. For example, she ate fried chicken but she also worked her arse off chasing down and killing said chicken. And other stuff. Like picking cotton. Etc. Since I'm not chasing down chickens or picking cotton or anything equally strenuous I don't eat lard. Often. Today I make an exception.

Also, every time I mention Granny I get a little teary eyed.

So I'm taking that lard and I'm making tortillas with it.

Yup. You heard me. About 17 years ago I set out to make some homemade tortillas. The year was 1993 and I was a young determined bride.

I failed.

Miserably.

Girls as German as me aren't meant to make tortillas I don't thing. But I was smart enough though to seek out the assistance of someone older and wiser, and more Hispanic, than me. She taught me how to make tortillas.

And real refried beans.


There they are in their youth. Just waiting for smooshing. Over the years I modified the refried bean recipe to include, well, less frying. I'm not completely out of my mind people.

Anyway. What's for dinner?

That's what.