It's All About the Food

Almost seven months ago, my youngest child, my baby boy, packed up his car and drove west. For about fifteen hundred miles. See, like most kids his age, high school was behind him and he was making that journey to college, which for him, really was the land of the unknown. Unlike most college freshman, he didn't do the campus tour, visit with prospective teachers, get a glimpse of the dorm nor any of the other things that routinely go with that outing.

When choosing a school, there really was only one choice for him. It was the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone or nothing. Located in the beautiful Napa Valley in St. Helena, California, it was a bit too far to do the typical look-see. He didn't have a backup plan should he not be accepted, nor did he feel he needed one. I asked him what he would do if he didn't get in. His reply? "I'll get in, Mom." Alrighty, then! I loved his confidence but was maybe more nervous than he was to find out if he would be moving to CA or not. I didn't want to hear the hurt and disappointment in his voice. I guess I should have been as big a believer as he was, because as most of you know, that's exactly where he is going to school.

The CIA at Greystone

The first few days weren't easy, for me or for him. I spent a lot of time on the phone, convincing him that he had made the right decision, that things were going to get better and that every college freshman was feeling the exact same things that he was. Thank goodness those conversations only lasted about three days. He met some people, went to class, ventured outside of the dorm and lo and behold, he loves it there! See, sometimes Momma is right!

Alex is coming to San Diego today. We love, love, love it when he comes to visit. And a small part of us dreads it. Really? Yes, really. An aspiring chef, my amazing son, is coming to visit and we have feelings of dread? I know, it's hard to believe. But there's a really good reason for it.

All we do is eat! Most of our time together is spent planning where we are going to eat, when we're going to eat, and what we're going to eat next. CeCe and I both gain about five pounds while he is here. For some reason, neither one of us has had the idea to go on a really good diet for a week or so before he gets here. Dang it! Too late now.

His plane doesn't get in until 10:00 pm but I'd be willing to bet a good chunk of change that one of the first things he says when he gets in the car has to do with food. As in right now. As in In & Out. Now I love me a good In & Out burger but only around supper time, sitting in the restaurant, enjoying it slowly, one bite at a time. If it's after 10:00 at night, there won't be any sitting down for us. Drive thru it will be and those burgers just aren't the same once you get home. I'm going to do everything I can to persuade him to save that particular restaurant for another time.

One of our lunches is already planned and that idea is one that I love. CeCe introduced me to Tacos El Gordo one beautiful Saturday morning. It's a bit of drive, south of us, almost to Mexico. And if you aren't looking for it, you'll go right by it as it's not the fanciest place. But man, can those people make some mean street tacos. The first time Alex was here, of course, we had to take him to El Gordos. He, too, has fallen in love with their carnitas. The tacos aren't very big, half the size of what you would get back home at Toxic Juans, I mean, Taco Johns. The tortillas are made fresh, right in front of your eyes. The pork is pulled right from a big chunk and the sauce is to die for. Us girls usually order three at a time, Alex starts with four, and he usually goes back for one or two more. They're cheap, about $1.89 each and must be eaten on site. Taking these in the car would totally kill this culinary delight. Maybe this weekend we can get the recipe and Alex can make them for us at home. Better brush up on my Spanish.

Makes your mouth water, doesn't it?

Supper, I mean, dinner. NO, I mean supper. Out here it's dinner and I just can't get used to saying that. I've been converted from saying 'pop' to the more common 'soda' used out here, though. Now I'm off topic. Friday night, Alex is supposed to cook for us. All CeCe asked is that he not cook duck. Huh? I have no idea why she thinks he would cook duck but I passed along the message. We've narrowed our proteins down to beef or chicken as I'm not much of a fish fan, unless it's my dad's famous deep fried walleye. Whatever Alex cooks, I will like it (hopefully) and eat it (hopefully). I'm not one to try new foods, even living here with a million different places and cuisines. In that respect, I am still a small town girl.

Saturday is open so far but he mentioned either Greek or Thai food. He's been doing some research on the Internet and said he found some places on Adams (that's the main drag a few blocks from our house). Close by will be nice but I admit, I'm scared to death to try either type of food. I mentioned my concerns to him and he said he's got my back. I sure hope that means he will order something he knows I might be willing to try. If not, I'm sure he'll eat it for me.

As if that wasn't enough food for one weekend, I also get to see a dear friend that I've known for almost 30 years. She and her family are taking a vacation from their cold, snowy Colorado home for some California sunshine. Of course, our get together will take place over more food. A destination has not yet been determined but the food will take a back seat to the reminiscing, laughing and sharing of our lives, catching up since the last time we saw each other.

Now, where are those fat jeans I wore the last time Alex was here?