Where There’s Smoke, There Are Jalapenos


Yesterday, Morgan and I headed to the farmers market to pick up two more boxes of apples. This is due to my apple addiction at this time of year, and also because I sold all my apple butter and I had wanted to keep some by for myself and for gifts. I need more apples! Before they’re all gone! It’s apple season, and soon the cheap, fresh, local apples will be no more.

I knew I would go home and spend some quality time with my Squeezo, so I was contemplating what easy thing I could fix for supper. I told Morgan we’d stop by the grocery store, too, and asked her what she wanted to eat. Something simple. Cereal? (Ha.) She said, “I can cook, you know.”

REALLY?! I asked her what her name was and how she got into my car. And what she’d done with Morgan. Then, afraid she’d whip that gift away from me, I asked her what she wanted me to get at the store so she could fix supper.

She was very, very hesitant to give me her ingredients list.

“You’ll post the recipe on your blog,” she said.

Aha! This WAS Morgan! She knows me so well! I’m a recipe-sharer. I believe recipes are made to be shared. I even share recipes of things I sell, like whiskey-raisin apple butter. How have I raised a recipe-hoarder?

I told her I could not post a recipe from a list of ingredients. Well, after I saw her fix it, I could, but I am restraining myself.

When we got home, my apples made love with my Squeezo and Morgan fixed supper.

She didn’t even like me taking pictures while she was creating.

She was sure I was deducing her recipe!

Which I was, but I will not post it out of respect for the fact that she made supper for me. And now that I know she can….. (She fixed beef soft tacos and deep-fried stuffed jalapenos! It was delicious.)

I came back to the house around the time she’d finished up, my apples sauced out back in the studio, and I was met with a cloud of smoke in the house. Morgan was standing there with a fire alarm in her hand that she’d torn down off the wall, looking sheepish. I’m quite well known for setting the fire alarms off myself when cooking, for which I’ve taken a lot of derision for over the years from my so-called children.

Morgan opened her mouth to start explaining, and I stopped her.


Comments Leave a Comment
Share: |    Subscribe to my feed Subscribe
Posted by Suzanne McMinn on October 22, 2012  

More posts you might enjoy:

Sign up for the Chickens in the Road Newsletter


7 Responses | RSS feed for comments on this post

  1. 10-22

    Way to go, Morgan—dinner and entertainment!

  2. 10-22

    I am wondering if I send my 17 year old DD to you, can you teach her to cook? Pretty please?

    And let Morgan know, she is in good company. Unfortunately our smoke detector ties into our security system. And when I called the service each time, I had to tell them I was cooking, . . . again. Then they started to ask me when I called. :no:

  3. 10-22

    Funny how we see ourselves in our children. When mine burn toast I know I’m their mother!!

    I like Morgan’s Katniss braid. Is she a “Hunger Games” fan? My youngest wears her hair like that a lot.

  4. 10-22

    At my house, the kitchen timer is also known as the smoke alarm :?

  5. 10-22

    Every time I fry fish a smoke alarm goes off. Had one in my college apartment that I just ripped down it went off so easy. Like to think if there had been a fire my cats would have woke me.

  6. 10-23

    I love it when my kids cook. Even when we had to call the fire dept …I still enjoyed the food!

  7. 10-23

    Ah, I tend to overcook stuff too. My family just tells people “Mom is doing Cajun tonight” and people accept that as the reason the house is all smoky and the food is blackened (with or without the cajun seasoning!)

Leave a Reply

Registration is required to leave a comment on this site. You may register here. (You can use this same username on the forum as well.) Already registered? Login here.

Discussion is encouraged, and differing opinions are welcome. However, please don't say anything your grandmother would be ashamed to read. If you see an objectionable comment, you may flag it for moderation. If you write an objectionable comment, be aware that it may be flagged--and deleted. I'm glad you're here. Welcome to our community!

Daily Farm

If you would like to help support the overhead costs of this website, you may donate. Thank you!

Sign up for the
Chickens in the Road Newsletter

The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....

Today on Chickens in the Road

Join the Community in the Forum

Search This Blog


October 2020

Out My Window

I Love Your Comments

I Have a Cow

And she's ornery. Read my barnyard stories!

Entire Contents © Copyright 2004-2020 Chickens in the Road, Inc.
Text and photographs may not be published, broadcast, redistributed or aggregated without express permission. Thank you.

Privacy Policy, Disclosure, Disclaimer, and Terms of Use