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Emma & John Currence Sittin’ in a Kitchen

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C-H-O-P-P-I-N-G…

So it went down like this:

Emma was sick for a month with asthma/upper respiratory virus.

Leaving her allergist’s office in Oxford, MS at lunch time, Emma requests a “fancy place,”  for lunch.

I agree because a) I like to eat and b) she’s been sick for a month without complaint.

We went to City Grocery where Emma charmed her way into the heart of our server, Jennifer, and eventually into the kitchen to get her first behind the scenes look at a professional kitchen.

I wrote my weekly column about the whole shebang. (Which was eventually picked up by my friends over at HuffPo.)

Someone in my newsfeed recognized Jennifer and put the link to the post on her wall.

Jennifer sent me a really sweet email.

Jennifer’s MOM sent me a really sweet email.

Jennifer’s sister went rogue and tweets the link to James Beard Award Winning Chef and owner of City Grocery, John Currence.

John Currence tweeted back:

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I tweeted back:

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He tweeted back:

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I explain everything that has happened to Emma. She loses her mind.

 

John emailed me to set up a time for us to come back and asked what foods Emma likes and dislikes. I called her into the room and typed as she talked:

Honest to God the kid will eat anything. She loves salads and was totally peeved today that there were no healthy choices at her school Valentine party and actually told her teacher, “You’d think somebody could at least bring fruit or something!!” 
 
She says she doesn’t like tomatoes, squash or zucchini, or spicy peppers. 
 
She loves: greens, turnip greens, onions (sauteed she says) chicken, sushi (couldn’t make this stuff up, I’m just taking notes), all fruit. She says steak is her favorite meat. Her eyes are glazing over the longer she talks about this. 
She said she’s always wondered about sweetbreads. (Are you crying yet?) 
She LOVES fish. 
 
She says “I just want to feel like a real chef in a real restaurant cooking for real food for lots of people.” (Guess this is her mission statement.) “Because I’ll feel like I’m really helping them.”
 
She says, “Ask him if we can do appetizers, an entree and dessert. And tell him I like LOTS of food and really fancy food.” 

Best Valentine’s Day, EVER.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oxford’s City Grocery with my Foodie Kid

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After battling The Stomach Virus of 2013 and emerging victorious, I have spent the last two weeks battling my seven-year-old’s asthma. We have driven all over the state of Mississippi, chasing her allergist from office to office like Thelma and Louise, minus the convertible.

Emma is an excellent patient and even in the middle of a coughing fit, red faced and hacking away, she’ll give you a thumbs up to let you know she’s hanging in there.

Last week we headed to Oxford, MS for a doctor’s appointment, afterwards I asked Emma, “Baby, what do you want for lunch? There’s a Chick-Fil-a here…”

“Can we go to a restaurant? Like someplace fancy?” She asked.

I like to eat good food, so this wasn’t really a hard sell but Baby Girl had been so sick and so sweet for so long, it was a done deal. We headed to the reknowned City Grocery on Oxford Square.

Emma fancies herself a foodie. Since she was old enough to stand on a stool beside me in the kitchen, she has been enthralled with the art of cooking. As I reach for spices to add to a recipe, I open them and let her smell them and tell her their names. We’ve done this for years, so I trust the child when she tells me my chili needs more cumin.

She is obsessed with cooking shows like Top Chef, Chopped and the Youtube hit “Nerdy Nummies.” For Christmas everything she asked for was related to cooking, she has her own basket of kitchen utensils in the kitchen and her very own cooking show on Youtube, “The Very Serious Cooking Show.” If you haven’t seen it, you are missing out.

Recently we were walking through Tuesday Morning, Emma had $20 of her own money to spend and instead of finding her on the toy aisle, I found her holding a full set of stainless steel flatware. She’s committed.

We were seated at City Grocery and Emma was pleased to have a “real” menu placed in front of her. You’ve never seen eyes roll until you’ve seen someone hand this kid a children’s menu. Emma and my mother looked over the menu trying to decide what they wanted. (I didn’t have to look: Shrimp & Grits, y’all.)

Shuggie, my mom, asked, “What do you think Emma?”

“I want the Grilled Shoulder Tender,” she answered.

I glanced at the menu:

Grilled Shoulder Tender

Grilled  teres major medallions, potato puree, fried brussel sprouts, charmoula 

Mom and I laughed.

“Do you even know what that is?” I asked.

“Nope, but I’m gonna try it.” She grinned.

Our waitress, Jennifer, came back for our orders and raised her eyebrows a little at Emma’s.

“I’m serious. The kid will eat anything,” I explained.

“Excuse me, where is the restroom?” Emma asked.

“Go straight back towards the kitchen then take a left,” Jennifer said. “Just don’t go in the kitchen!” She joked.

Emma’s eyes got huge and she could barely walk for staring back into that glorious vortex of steam, stainless steel and sweat.

I laughed, “You’d better watch her! That’d be a dream come true for her, the kid is crazy about food and cooking.”

Mom and I talked to Jennifer and told her about Emma’s love and appreciation for cooking, good food and about The Very Serious Cooking Show.

“I love it! So many kids just want chicken fingers and fries!” She said.

Emma wandered back to the table, still looking over her shoulder towards the kitchen and finally sat down. She sipped her water and tapped her fingers on the table, “What’s taking so long?”

She answered herself before I could say a word, “They’re probably working on the presentation,” she mused.

A few moments later Jennifer brought our entrees to the table and Emma’s eyes were bigger than her plate. She ate with glee and abandon, only stopping to mutter between bites, “Mmm, so much flavor. So juicy. Mmmm, this is amazing. Amazing. Mmmm, the flavors!”

We shared bites from each other’s plates and Emma almost cleaned hers.

“Can we get desert? My Shoulder Tender tank is full but my desert tank is still empty.”

I snickered as she told Jennifer, “We’re going to share the Chocolate Chess Pie.”

By “share,” she meant two bites for me, one bite for her grandmother and the rest of the bites for her.

As she was licking the chocolate syrup off the plate, Jennifer came back to the table, “I have a little surprise for you. I checked with the kitchen and they would love for you to come back and see them.”

Y’all.

You could’ve knocked that kid over with a feather.

“Really?! Really!” She squealed, shoveling the last bite of pie into her mouth. She wiped her face and leapt to her feet and I followed the two of them to the kitchen.

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Jennifer walked her down the line, explaining everyone’s jobs and pointing out the grill top where Eric had just cooked her Grilled Shoulder Tender, Emma leaned across the counter, gave him a thumbs up and said, “It wasAMAZING.”

“Who’s the Top Chef?” Emma asked.

“Well, Brian is in charge of lunch,” Jennifer explained.

Emma grinned from ear to ear as we left the kitchen. She thanked Jennifer and we headed back out into the cold with our bellies, and our hearts filled to the brim.

Rocky Mountain Oysters

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So since Emma Jean has been recovering from her little skurgery, we’ve been having “Chopped” marathons. There are several seasons on “Neckflicks” and our family can’t get enough. We are mesmerized by the chopping, sauteing, sweating and whisking. Aside from America’s Funniest Videos, it’s the one show that the whole fam will sit down and watch together.

This weekend Emma and Aubrey were piled up on the couch watching “Chopped” and I happened to walk through the room, following a trail of Sadie’s discarded clothes– she was on outfit #11 for Saturday and outfits #1-10 were scattered around the house. I bent to pick over a handful of socks as Emma said, “Momma, do you know what Rocky Mountain Oysters are?”

Me: Yes. Gross.

Emma: That was one of their mystery ingredients! Have you ever eaten that? It’s bulls’ balls Momma! Did you know that?? Rocky Mountain Oysters are bulls’ balls!!

Aubrey snickered beside her.

Me: I know. Stop talking about it. I’m about to gag.

Emma: But did you know that before Momma? You already knew that Rocky Mountain Oysters are bulls’ balls??

Me: YES. Stop.

I picked up a few more articles of clothing as one of the “chefs” was interviewed.

Terrible TV Chef to the camera: I’d never heard of these before. I didn’t even know what Rocky Mountain Oysters WERE until I heard the other guys talking about testicles… (Sidebar: Maybe you should’ve watched a few episodes of Chopped to prepare yourself for this “cooking” show. If you are a “chef” on a show on The FOOD Network and you don’t know what Rocky Mountain Oysters are and my SEVEN-year-old does– spoiler alert– you’re gonna get Chopped. .)

Emma: MOMMA. Are testicles and balls the same thing?

Me (OMG): Yes.

Aubrey was wheezing and had tears rolling down her cheeks.

Emma: I didn’t know that. Did you know that Momma? Did you know that testicles and balls were the same thing??

Me: YES.

I ran out of the room at that point hoping the conversation was over. Approximately 60 seconds later Emma followed me to the kitchen.

Emma: Can I have your phone? I need to call Ella Grace? (her cousin)

Me: Sure, as soon as she gets out of church.

Emma had only taken two steps when my brain finally caught up– oh I BET she wanted to call somebody. Thank God for long winded preachers and Sunday morning lunch crowds. And my brother and sister-in-law said, “Amen.”

 

 

The Very Serious Cooking Show Ep 3

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One day I will blog again. I will write all the words and all the feelings and tell ALL the stories here. But for now I am finishing up the copyedits on the new version of “Ketchup”, taking care of two sick kids (WHICH two rotates on a weekly basis), trying not to get sick myself and editing cooking shows.

What with all the free time I have these days, I spent most of the day today editing down 18 minutes of video to 4. Editing video is sort of time consuming–  somebody in this house needs learn how to use iMovie (besides me) or this show is gettin’ cancelled.

 

Nuggets to listen for:

Sadie saying that her Daddy will kill you if you come to his house because he “HATES” people being here. (I have no idea.)

Sadie telling Emma to quit being silly that this is serious. Then, JUST KIDDING, it’s silly. I mean, serious. I mean– WAIT, what are we doing?

Emma begging Sadie to make it stop because they have been recording for 17 minutes.

Sadie telling Emma, “We’re  best friends.” Emma saying, “Well, we’re sisters.”

Enjoy. And leave them comments. They lurve it.

 

Emma & Sadie’s VERY SERIOUS Cooking Show

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While I was cooking dinner tonight Emma and Sadie were playing with Playdoh at the kitchen counter and decided to make a pretend cooking show. Hilarity and hijinks ensued. Emma is a little foodie, she is only seven but she is a lot of help in the kitchen. I’ve been naming and letting her smell spices for as long as she could stand on a stool and hold a wooden spoon, so if she ever tells you your chili needs more cumin… it does. This actual video was over forty minutes long. I watched the whole thing about four times to edit it down the the funniest nuggets, cuz I love you like that.

During a large portion of the video I’m cooking and I only got involved when they screamed loud enough to get my attention, so I missed a couple of elbow jabs while dinner was being prepared, but whatevs– they worked it out. And you may hear Aubrey getting really excited in the background because I finally agreed to let her buy the real version of Minecraft and apparently I am THE BEST MOTHER EVER!!  And that’s obvious. (If you aren’t following Chris D’Elia on Vine it’s going to become increasingly difficult for you to understand what I’m saying because I’ve started speaking in D’Eliaisms and I love it. And that’s obvious. See what I did there?)

Anyway, here is the video and ’tis not short but there was too much funny to cut it down to one liners!

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A Concert is NOT A Playdate

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I’m taking Aubrey and Emma, my nine-year-old and seven-year-old, to see Taylor Swift in concert later this month. I bought the tickets almost ten months ago but I waited until this summer to tell them to avoid to question, “How many more days, Momma!?” for as long as possible.

They were excited when I told them, but thankfully their little brains became cosumed with swimming and sleepovers and they never once asked for a countdown.

Here’s where things get embarrassing for me— I joined the Taylor Swift fan club. (Go ahead and laugh. It could be worse, I could be taking them to see Justin Beiber or One Direction.) But I joined the fan club to get early access to purchase tickets to the concert.

Last week, the UPS man showed up at my house with three identical boxes, all addressed to me. I was surprised to open it and find a huge pile of Taylor Swift swag: posters, bracelets, glow necklaces, lanyards, pens, magnets, guitar picks, a phone case, and the pièce de résistance— a woven Taylor Swift throw blanket that is roughly large enough to cover a twin sized bed. And let me be clear, Taylor Swift is gorgeous, but her face woven into a tapestry style throw blanket? Not something I wanted to look at everyday.

I struggled with whether or not to even show the girls. I knew that opening these boxes would mean that I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere in my house without having Taylor Swift staring at me. But I caved and gave them the boxes when they got home from school.

Emma squealed, “I can’t believe that Taylor Sthift sent us all this stuff! Did you tell her I was learning to play the guitar, Momma?” She held up the picks. (And Sthift is not a typo. It’s how Emma says her name, she cannot be convinced she is wrong.)

“What? Oh! Baby, Taylor Swift didn’t actually send you all of this herself! We just got this because we bought tickets and joined the fan club.” I explained.

Emma was undeterred, she flipped through the concert photographs in the box, “I can’t wait until we get there and I get my picture made with her! Do you think she’ll let me sing with her?”

I felt a little sick as I started explaining the concept of a concert to Emma. “Honey, there are going to be thousands of people there. It will be fun and we’ll sing along but we aren’t going to meet her…”

Emma’s eye widened, “MOMMA! Do you think she’s read your book?! Because you are famous and she is famous! She probably follows you on Twitter!”

“Baby— I am NOT famous. I wrote a book. Lots of people write books. Taylor Swift IS famous and she does not follow me on Twitter. I promise.”

I spent a few more minutes trying to explain to both of the girls why going to a concert is fun even if you don’t meet the musician. I hadn’t realized they were expecting their own personal playdate with Taylor Swift.

It was heartwarming and hilarious to know, that at least in Emma’s eyes, I have Taylor Swift rockstar status. I guess once you get your face woven into a tapestry throw, you know you’ve really arrived. But until I can casually drape a Robin O’Bryant blanket across the back of the couch, Emma is redecorating my house in Taylor Swift circa 2013.

 

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