I’ve been trying to find new dinner dishes to feed the family. More specifically, I’m looking to expand my children’s repertoire beyond pizza, burgers, hot dogs, Wendy’s, Michelangelo’s Meat Lasagna and…. THAT’S IT! Literally! No macaroni and cheese. No spaghetti. No pasta at all. No chicken (that was a new development) and, the last two times I tried, no pork either (also a new distaste). So my husband tells me that his Mom used to make a great pot roast. Of course, his Mom was full-blooded Italian and grew up cooking. Me? Full-blooded Irish. No need to expand on that… right?
So, I’m determined to try a pot roast. (As long as I’ve got 2 slices of frozen pizza in the freezer to feed the boys when/in case they turn down my latest concoction, I’m willing to try almost anything.) Once at the store, I discover there are seemingly hundreds of different cuts of beef one can choose from. ALL, apparently, for a different meal. Without access to my Betty Crocker paperback cookbook to reference, I attempt to ask a man examining various meats who looks like he knows what he’s doing. Unfortunately, he was either deaf or didn’t understand English. Either way, I gathered no useful information from him. Finally, I ring my Irish mother up on the tele. Without any ability to compare my Mom’s pot roast to my mother-in-law’s, I suddenly recall that Mom also made a decent pot roast in her day.
First of all, I should explain that Mom’s hubby has CP. When he answers the phone, I explain that I have a cooking question. Instead of retrieving my mother, he says, “Ok, shoot.” Not a little surprised, I ask “What kind of meat do I buy to make pot roast?” The long pause should have given me pause…. WHAT? I quickly realized that no amount of repeating was going to help he and I communicate. (Now, I’m thinking that other man must have been deaf.) Finally, he puts my Mom on the phone.
Me: Hey, I want to know what kind of meat I should buy to make a pot roast?
Mom: A rump roast.
Me: I don’t see a rump. But I have a round bottom!
Mom: I never heard of a round bottom. There’s no rump?
Me: Nope. I don’t see any rumps.
Mom: What kind do you have?
Me: I’m holding a round bottom in my hands right now.
Mom: I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s the same.
Me: Is there a difference between a rump and a round bottom?
Mom: I’m not sure. Are you at the store right now?
Mom: Why don’t you ask someone there?
Mind you, I realized early on where this was going and was holding my sides and crying, I was laughing so hard by the time we got to her last question. I looked up at the grandmotherly woman who had unknowingly strolled my way and knew I just couldn’t ask her…
“Do you know the difference between a rump and a round bottom?
Thanks for my all-out-belly-laugh for the day Mom. It sure does feel good to laugh til you cry!