The Whole Enchilada

On Monday night, as I loaded the dishwasher, Mike came in and told me he needed to figure out something for the planning meeting for the next Scout meeting.  Hmmm. We usually have loud conversations between the kitchen and the living room with the TV running interference. I had a niggling at the backs of my knees. When Mike's patrol leaders get together, they go to the Mexican restaurant down the road and Nick and I are left to fend for ourselves.  This meeting was going to outline the activities for the next year and Mike said it would take too long, be too interactive, and involve too many people to take up a big table at the restaurant. 

"So, why don't you order takeout from them?" I asked.  Oh, I am so naive. 

"No, there are too many people.  I want to keep costs down," he said.

"So what are you going to make?" I asked blithely, as I tried to get one more cutting board to fit on the lower dishwasher rack.  Mike just looked at me. 

"What?" I asked, still having no real idea where he was headed. I bent over and grabbed a squishy dishwasher tablet from under the sink. Mike was still looking at me after I dropped it into the dishwasher, snapped the lid shut, pressed the usual buttons, and stood back up.

"Could you make enchiladas for us?" he said. "You're really good at making them."

"Yeah, Mom! Make us enchiladas!" Nick said, bouncing into the room. Was I getting a hot flash or was it getting crowded in here?

"How many people?" I asked.

Bam! Oh, I really do not get it until the very end, do I?

So, that is how I ended up making enchiladas for twenty-six people, including eight hungry teenaged boys, on a Tuesday afternoon.

Do you know what a kitchen looks like after making four pans of enchiladas in a rush? I had to make an extra pan. Nick made sure of that. We had to eat too and don't forget leftovers for lunch, Mom.

Thank you for listening, jb