Dinner at Grandma’s

“That would be lovely! I’d love to have your kids for dinner!”

“That’s great! Then I’ll drop them by a little early at six. Carol and I will join you guys at eight. I’d like for them to spend some quality time with their grandma,”

She knew just how important this meal was. The family was getting together after so long. Everything had to be just right. For the main course, she had something special in mind that she often prepared back in the day. Sure it had been long since she last cooked it, but today was just the sort of occasion to bring the recipe out from the cookbook that had long served as an heirloom in the Samsonova family.

Most authors recommended that for a perfect steak, the meat must be grass-fed and grass finished. But she knew better; all that was needed was that the meat be young and tender. With great precision, she made curvilinear sectional cuts around the thigh and Oh! The ribs! The ribs were her favorite part! After carefully removing the bones within the fat marbling and after surplus washes to drain out all the blood, Tamara pat the meat dry and seasoned it with sea salt, freshly ground black pepper and of course the secret ingredient.. Rosemary!

Her special mix of Clarified butter, tallow, lard and coconut oil smoothly melted over the fat, greasing the seasonings in just the right proportion. When it came to frying the meat, Tamara swore by her “Flip Once” method. She got the oil crackling over the shining stainless steel pan and gently lowered the steak as it hissed over the heat of the intense flame.

“8:00!! Oh my lovely! Peter is here and the food’s almost ready too!” Elated, she rushed to the door.

“Mmm. It smells great in here, Ma! Can’t wait to try it! Where are the children? I’m sure the little monsters must’ve pounced on you!”

“Well, they were a handful! They’re in the kitchen right now!”

Checking inside the cabinets, wondering if the two were up to their games again, Peter exclaimed, “Ma! I don’t see them here!” Tamara stood silently from a corner, pointing at the stove.

Peter, now anxious, having searched the entire house twice, with still no trace of the kids, ran back to the kitchen, “Ma, the kids are nowhere! Did you leave the door open or something? Where did you see them last?”

Still as ever, Tamara stood as she was; pointing at the stove. She calmly watched as horror, unlike she’d ever seen before gleamed from her son’s eyes.

With the last ounce of consciousness he had left in him, Peter screamed, “What did you do, you ungodly woman! What have you done?”

“Well dear, it’s like I said, I would love to have your kids for dinner!”

– Snigdha Nagarajan

Inspired by The silence of the lambs.

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