Things you are never supposed to say in certain situations:

“Those lines that I before have writ, do lie: Even those that said I could not love you dearer; Yet then my judgement knew no reason why My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. But reckoning time, whose million’d accidents Creep in ‘twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharpest intents, Divert strong minds to the course of altering things; Alas! why fearing of Time’s tyranny, Might I not then say, ‘Now I love you best,’ When I was certain o’er incertainty, Crowing the present, doubting of the rest? Love is a babe; then might I not say so, To give full growth to that which still doth grow?” *

So instead I usually say, “give your mom a hug, Ferd.” And he does. And then I cook for him.

His new thing is healthy food for dinner. Last night I made extra firm tofu cut into blocks two inches wide and half an inch high, dried out between tea towels for a few minutes, then seasoned with salt on both sides, smeared with dijon all over, smothered with panko, and fried in a healthy pour of olive oil that has just begun to smoke from the heat. Don’t move the tofu from the oil until you see a deep caramel color on the bottom edges. Then flip. Let the same thing happen to the other side. Remove to a wire rack or the inside of a broken down Panko box. Give the tofu a grind of black of pepper. Wipe out the pan and add 3 inch sections of green onion with a serious tab of butter. Season with salt. Just when they begin to melt, and the butter has a little color, turn off the flame and serve the scallions over the tofu. If you don’t have green onions, use slices of shallot. I served it with a plate of teeny red grapes, a dish of those leftover cayenned and sugared toasted pumpkin seeds, carrot spears, sliced fennel with mint leaves and a bowl of sautéed romaine with a whole chile and a few whole cloves of garlic. Don’t forget to taste for salt and olive oil. The biggest mistake people make is to forget to taste for fat. I take that back. If you are in there cooking, screw mistakes. Who cares. But, think about the olive oil.

He didn’t want the ice cream. I ate it. I didn’t want the tofu.

*I am sure I should mention that that is a sonnet, written by The Bard Man.

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