What's for dinner?

I've always loved to cook. I like to blame it on my mother's lack of culinary expression as I grew up. I can remember most of my childhood nights eating odd concoctions, usually hamburger meat and a weird combo of gravy mix, tomato sauce, and corn. And now that I'm older, I know that my mom was just a busy lady, with two kids, a job, and a husband with very odd habit of pouring ketchup on just about anything. What's the point in slaving over a delicious curry if he's just going to pour red goop on it? I get it now, Mom.

But even as a kid, I was so inspired that I used to write my own recipes and give them to my mom. If I was feeling extra excited about my new creation, I'd even provide an accompanying illustration, like, "Here, mom, because I wasn't sure you knew how to read, so I drew this picture of a taco sandwich for you." [Note, my mom kept that recipe, because what better way to make your child feel foolish than to wait 20 years and then show them a barely-legible scribbling they made about putting a taco between two piece of bread, and apparently some peas, as visible in the drawing.] One of my favorite treats as a kid was a Dorito sandwich (always fond of the sandwich?), which was white bread, slathered with cream cheese, with a crunchy layer of nacho Doritos inside...mmm...mmm. Cue the slideshoe of me a chunky child, thanks.

Tonight I'll be making a stromboli. Mostly because after yesterday's 4 hour black-out nap after the St. Patty's parade, we woke up absolutely.freaking.starving. and that's all I could think of. So tonight, it's a rolled up log of cheese and veggies and meat. Perhaps I'll take a picture and send it to my mom...for old time's sake.