Erma Bombeck Writing Competition - Winners
2006
Erma Bombeck Writing Competition
1st Place - Humor - Dayton
Amy Krug
Centerville, Ohio
"My Mother-in-Law's Secret Ingredient"
| During Christmas dinner at my in-laws’ house, I was silently comparing the feast to my mother’s cooking. The turkey was drier; the mashed potatoes didn’t have as much flavor. Little did I know that those were the least of my worries. “Watch out for the stuffing. I think there’s a band-aid in it,” whispered my mother-in-law, sticking her head into the dining room. We all paused in mid-bite. “Oh,” she whispered, “and don’t tell Carolyn Jean. You know how she’s funny about stuff like that.” Carolyn Jean, one of my sister-in-laws, was “funny” about undercooked meat and Olestra in lowfat potato chips. I doubt she ever considered putting used band-aids cooked into stuffing on her list of “stuff to be funny about.” I was tempted to tell her just to see if she’d march her kids to the bathroom for forced purging. We all looked around at each other, unwilling to eat more. All, that is, except my husband, who has always refused to eat stuffing. He had a smug smile on his face. “I knew I didn’t eat stuffing for a reason,” he said. “You’ve never eaten stuffing because you knew one day your mother would cook a band-aid into it?” I asked. “Well,” he said, “You never know.” The rest of dinner passed without incident; we all eventually resumed eating, consuming the stuffing in the tiniest bites possible. Nobody found the band-aid, and nobody told Carolyn Jean. Now, my in-laws, like other families, have a tradition that involves making the most of Christmas leftovers. I seem to be the only one not a fan of this tradition, which is the making of turkey soup. To me, there’s something about boiling the bones of a bird carcass for hours and then slurping up the results that is distasteful. A week later, we were back at my in-laws’, sitting around the dining room where everyone, except me, was chowing down bowls of soup. My husband, I noticed, was chewing more than should be required for soup-eating. He pulled something out of his mouth and looked at it. “Uhm, Mom,” he called. “Come here a minute.” She came over and inspected the flesh-colored lump he held out. “Either this is a really chewy piece of turkey, or I think I found your band-aid,” he said. “Wow, that was a persistent little devil, wasn’t it? At least now it’s been cooked enough it shouldn’t have any germs,” she said. “Well, don’t tell Carolyn Jean.” She went back into the kitchen. My husband put the persistent little band-aid to the side of his bowl and looked a little green. I knew I didn’t eat turkey soup for a reason. |