Helpful Recipe Ideas for Parents with Annoying Teenagers

IMG_E6203

You can see leaf veins on these suckers so don’t tell me algebra homework is hard. 

(1)  When You Want to Kill That Kid Vegetable Soup.  This involves a great deal of chopping.  You take a large knife and slice through various root vegetables like carrots, turnips, onions, and extra celery since it makes a satisfying bone-crushing sound.  This way you don’t cut through actual parts of people you are supposed to love and care for but are instead raging against the shallot.  Murder those red potatoes, people.  They don’t bleed.  Chop away on the cutting board and when the kid comes in and to ask what’s for dinner, they will see the murderous and slightly crazed look on your face with a large knife in your hand and quietly slink back in their rooms until dinner is ready.

(2)  Talking Back Biscuits.  These are a light and fluffy way to start your morning when the kid says “YOU SAID YOU’D WAKE ME UP MOTHER” and “WHY DO I NOT HAVE ANY SOCKS THAT ARE CLEAN.” Like their socks are your problem.  Then you catch them saying “oh shit, I have a history test today and I didn’t study” so you add extra salt to the dough to match their mouth. When they eat them and say “gross, I don’t like so much salt” you can say “welcome to my world, kiddo” and “try some jam with that.”

(3)  Crappy Attitude Casserole.  With teenagers, they come home ecstatic and happy and talking about the school dance with glee or they look like someone pulled out all their wisdom teeth without anesthesia.  If you are unlucky enough to catch them on a bad day, make a dump casserole of all the leftover vegetables with rice and a can of creamed soup, cover with cheese, and bake for 30 min.  When they ask what’s in it you can say you just vomited all your problems into the dish and maybe they can chill out asking you what’s in the casserole because IT’S BEEN A ROUGH DAY OKAY? and you’ll match their sour attitude with the almost moldy broccoli you chopped up and threw in underneath the cheese.

(4)  Incessant Chatter Chowder.  When your daughter comes home and wants to tell you all about how this other kid got together and how the rumors are that the first kid actually hooked up with this girl at a party but then this other friend got involved and he’s a little weird, you know, and by this time you just turn on the hand mixer and begin to wave in their direction and mouth the words “I can’t hear you” because you’re just trying to make this lovely dinner for everyone that involves loud noises and creamed soup to drown out their obnoxious stories about teenagers almost kissing under bleachers.

(5)  Slow as Molasses Cookies.  These cookies are full of a gooey sweet substance that takes forever to pour out of the jar, just like when they have missed the bus and you need to drive them in but suddenly they sit on the floor “putting on their shoes” but they are laughing and somehow magically creating a snapchat story and you walk in front of them and wave at them like OMG WE HAVE TO GO I AM NOT YOUR PERSONAL DRIVER and they look at you like “what is your problem” and proceed to lace their sneakers like they win a prize if they can draw out this process until Christmas.  Sprinkle sugar on the top of the cookies just before you put them in the oven, just like when you say “I love you!” right when you drop them off after yelling at them in the car for twenty minutes.

(6)  Stinky Pasta.  This is a crowd-pleaser with a cream sauce out of limburger cheese and that is served over fettuccini noodles and sprinkled with basil, which basically smells like how a teenager’s room smells.  You tell them to shower but it’s like they are allergic to water or soap but instead cover up the stench with some cheap perfume from Bath and Body Works that doesn’t smell at all like strawberries despite the label.  They walk out of the house and you have to air the place out for an hour and you think “at least the basil in this pasta recipe actually smells good.”

(7)  Phone Addiction Applesauce.  Teenagers think applesauce is just for kids, but it smells lovely to cook apples with cinnamon and then puree them until they are soft and smooth, just like how their minds are mush after staring at their devices for a solid seven hours on a Saturday.  When you tell them “hey, kiddo, how about reading this classic novel to give your brain some activity” they say “I’ll tell you classic, how about Mario Brothers” and you end up eating all the applesauce and watching cartoons alone wondering why you even try.

(8)  Tired Tuesdays.  You cook no food and say “there’s always cereal” because your kids are exhausting and you are tired of their smells and their talking and their attitude problems and you just don’t understand how come they can’t grow up and get a job already.  Then one of your teenagers is sad because some boy dumped her and she says “Mommy?  Can you make me a grilled cheese?”  Her cute little pimply face reminds you of all those nights you stayed up with her until 3 am with a fever and rocked her and there’s so much love pouring out you in that one moment that you say “YES OF COURSE I’LL DO ANYTHING MAYBE YOU WANT FOUR TYPES OF CHEESE ON IT AND I’LL HEAT UP TOMATO SOUP WITH THAT?” The teenager smiles in that sly way that says “ha ha – I’ve still got it.”

Give bran a chance

I’m not a huge fan of blogs that are only about cooking.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love to bake, and there’s nothing quite so enchanting as seeing a Nikon zoom into a bowl of flour and watching frame-by-frame as the butter is mixed in.  There goes the sugar.  Is that unbaked dough?  Are those hands molding it into the shape of bread? Riveting. But sometimes food is just so important that you need to talk about it.  Like bran muffins.  Let’s discuss.

Bran muffins are usually reserved for the advanced-in-age-crowd with intestinal blockages.  That little raisin-dotted hockey puck acts like a snowplow, dragging its cardboard-tasting self through your colon for a thorough Spring cleaning.  It’s the muffin that’s left at Starbucks after the others have gone. It’s the muffin at a conference room breakfast buffet that you pass up for the crappy plain bagel.  It’s unloved.

But fiber is good for all ages, and I just knew there was a bran muffin recipe out there that didn’t taste like wood shavings.  So I searched online and baked and adapted, and came up with the following.  I decided to rename these muffins “really tasty blueberry banana muffins,” considering the negative PR associated with bran.  It’s our little secret.

So in essence, you mix the ingredients below in a large bowl in no specific order, in between warming up your lukewarm coffee and changing diapers, and then spoon the chunky mess into muffin tins and bake at 375 degrees until they seem done. I promise – no pictures of my grungy hands dripping the batter into my beat-up muffin pans.  You can imagine.

Really Tasty Blueberry Banana Muffins

(Not bran.  Don’t call them bran or your family will rush out for donuts.  Stress the really tasty part.  Enunciate blueberry)

1 1/2 cups All-Bran buds (it looks like dog food, but it’s actually not)

1 cup buttermilk (this gives it a wonderful flavor)

1/3 cup vegetable oil (please don’t sub in applesauce. You’re making healthy bran muffins for crying out loud.  Live a little)

1 egg

2/3 cup brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract (I just pour a splash in.  Use your judgment)

A few shakes of cinnamon

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 banana – all mashed up with a fork

1 cup frozen or fresh blueberries

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

You will be surprised at the looks on your family’s face when they eat them.  No one throws up.  No one says “I’ll have that cheese danish instead, thanks.”  There actually is no cheese danish offered, which makes that last part work out so well.

Finally – a bran muffin that’s worthy of love. You might eat so many you’ll send your husband to the grocery store for more toilet paper.  But whatever you do, don’t give up on healthy food.  Just tweak it and re-make it and rediscover ways to make boring things taste wonderful. Even if that means changing the name. Even if it means an extra tablespoon of sugar or nuts or berries.  Even if it means telling your kids it’s really tasty. Because it is. Trust me on this. Even your colon will thank you.