the glory of the casserole

Do you know what the definition of casserole is? It is (#1)"a large, deep dish in which food can be cooked and served," or (#2)"food prepared in such a dish." That means, of course, that if I were to prepare, say, Roast Turkey in a casserole, used as in the first definition, I would not have made Roast Turkey, but Roast Turkey Casserole, because, of course, it is now definition #2, food prepared in such a dish. Mashed potatoes prepared in a casserole dish would not be mashed potatoes, which my children would devour happily and greedily, but Mashed Potato Casserole, which my children would likely not touch. The word casserole rarely bodes well.

When I was growing up casserole usually meant "plug your nose and eat it" because it was usually preceded by "Corn." Ugh. Corn Casserole: Hands down, the least favorite food ever made on a consistent basis at the home I grew up in. Ask any of my 6 siblings, and my father, ps. Bless my angel mother, I believe she liked it, and she made it ALL THE TIME, at least according to my childhood memories -- although I've learned through my own children's childhood memories that those things aren't always accurate. But that's another post. It wasn't until my dad quietly admitted (after another night of gagging and nose-plugging) that it wasn't among his favorite dishes, that we were released from the sentence of yuck-for-dinner.

I have to admit, I now can relate to my mom and her loved-that-casserole-that-everyone-else-hated. Mine was Chicken Broccoli casserole. I loved that stuff so much that it was all I asked for for dinner, every birthday. It was one of about 2 recipes I brought with me into marriage (by no fault of my mom's, by the way. It didn't actually occur to me that I was the mom, and therefore, could make dinner every night until my own blessed mother came and stayed with us after the birth of our first baby. She made dinner for us every night and froze a whole bunch more so we had dinner for like a month. And after we had eaten our way through them all, I thought slowly, "...I guess maybe I could make something for us to eat for dinner...Maybe..." Who knows what we ate before she stopped by. But I digress. Shocker).

Chicken Broccoli casserole. What's not to love? A little chicken, some broccoli, some cheese, and of course the main part of any casserole, some cream-of-something-or-other soup. Toss in a few other miscellaneous ingredients and Voi la! Dinner. I probably made that stuff every two weeks, once I discovered that I could cook, of course. Mmmm! Yum! Chicken Broccoli casserole again!! And everyone else is eating it with a sorta-smile on their faces (okay, that's Dave, everyone else-else is plugging their noses and gagging all the way). Never fear, at least Dave likes it! The kids will learn to like it! It'll come!

...That's what I thought, anyway, until one evening as we rinsed the last of the broccoli-bits off the plates, Dave quietly admitted that he really doesn't care for Chicken Broccoli casserole.

At all.


What?


I...


What?!


You...


Really? You don't like it?


I was devastated.

Devastated, because, of course, I'm not making a whole dang casserole for one person, especially if it's just for me. And of course, there's no such thing as a casserole-for-one, unless it's a frozen meal-for-one and if I'm cooking dinner for everyone, why would I make a frozen meal-for-one?

I paused for a bit, there by the kitchen sink, and savored the last memory of my last dinner of my favorite dish ever. Never again would I happily eat that lovely mixture of a bunch of stuff thrown altogether into a rather fetching one-dish meal. Never again would I watch as my 5-year-old methodically plugs, chews, swallows, and gulps a drink of water as fast as she possibly can to get the awful thing over with. Never would I see my little 4-year-old wrestle her way through that gag reflex as she dutifully eats all of her 4 bites. Never would I...

Ah, it wasn't really worth all that, now was it? I mean, sure, it was good, but once I got over the initial shock of being the lone member of the family who liked it, I realized that the stuff just wasn't that good. I mean, really, of all the dumb battles to choose, I'm going for the "Forcing-You-To-Like-Chicken-Broccoli-Casserole" one? Please. I'm an idiot.

And then I thought of my mom. And I wondered if she ever missed eating Corn Casserole. And then I pictured all 7 of her children gathered around the table in various stages of gagging and plugging, and I knew she hadn't missed it for a second.

I'm with you, mom. How 'bout Olive Garden tonight instead?

Mmmmm. Breadsticks.

And not a casserole dish in sight.