The complications of what's for dinner

Complication A. Son Number 2 has begun preseason soccer practice, meaning that he leaves home every day at 4:15 p.m. and returns at about 9 p.m., meaning that he must be fed before and after.

Complication B. Son Number 1 is getting his wisdom teeth out tomorrow, meaning that I must come up with many good ideas about soft foods that don't rely entirely on sugar.

Complication C. I am supposed to be eating dinner with my bandmates tonight, as I was informed by way of a casual phone call that included comments such as "we'll throw something on the grill" and "have a few beers." This is what ensues when everyone else in the band is a man. Who is providing all this meat and beer anyway?

Complication D. Tom will be working all day and will be hungry for a regular dinner at the regular time.

Complication E. My refrigerator is full of cabbage.

The solution

For complications A, D, and E. Soupe au pistou, prepared early in the afternoon. This is a fine Provencal vegetable soup, rather like a fresh minestrone, containing a variable mix of vegetables (such as cabbage), and enriched with a pesto-ish mixture of garlic, Parmesan, tomato, and olive oil. It reheats well and can even be eaten at room temperature, if the weather is sultry. Good thing I also have a freezer full of baguettes and plenty of arugula and cucumbers for a salad.

For complication B. Chocolate pudding will be my nod to sugar. Otherwise, scrambled eggs, mashed new potatoes, cold cucumber soup. Today, fortunately, I only have to make the pudding.

For complication C. If I bake a pan of brownies, no one will notice that I "forgot" to bring meat and beer. And I think I may almost be able to manage to cook soup, brownies, and chocolate pudding at the same time.

For complication E. Sauerkraut, perhaps tomorrow afternoon, after I make the scrambled eggs and refresh the sufferer's ice pack. Except that I'll be back to dealing with complications A and D again. Sigh.

Notice I haven't even mentioned complication F: driving boys home from soccer practice, driving myself to band practice, driving Son Number 1 to the oral surgeon's office, driving to the grocery store to repair Son Number 2's ravages on our fruit supply. This is a child who, at a sitting, can consume a dozen plums or a bag of cherries or 2 quarts of blueberries. I mean, I know fruit is good for a growing boy, but really.