By Easter weekend. Cody is on day four hundred and forty-five of his sentence. Mama is hosting the second annual six-person Easter dinner Sunday afternoon, the same crew as last year, the same six people at our kitchen table. Aunt Tammy is driving down from Tulsa. Mrs. Tilford from First Baptist. Mrs. Henderson from three doors down. Mr. Briggs and Linda. Mama and me. Six.
I am cooking the main again this year, and I want to write down what I am cooking because I have decided this is the most ambitious main I have attempted yet. A four-pound bone-in lamb shoulder from the Walmart Easter sale at $4.99 a pound — the cheapest lamb price of the year — brining in salt water with bay leaves and peppercorns in the big stockpot in the fridge since Friday night. Saturday afternoon I rubbed the shoulder under the skin with a paste I made in Mrs. Henderson’s food processor: fresh rosemary, fresh sage, six cloves of garlic, the zest of a lemon, kosher salt, olive oil. Sunday morning the shoulder goes into the oven at 275 degrees for five hours, basting every forty-five minutes with the pan drippings. I am going to slice it into thick pinkish-mahogany rounds and serve it with a mint-and-lemon gremolata I am making fresh from the herbs on the windowsill, with a small pile of roasted potatoes on the side and Mrs. Henderson’s deviled eggs and Mrs. Tilford’s rolls and Aunt Tammy’s coconut cake on the buffet table after.
The Easter dinner is the dinner. The Saturday dinner I want to actually tell you about today is the lunch I made for Eli.
Eli is Mrs. Henderson’s grandson. He is nine years old now — he was six when he came up the walk in his fireman costume on Halloween 2016 and Cody gave him an extra Tootsie Roll for being on duty, and he was seven when he wore the fox costume to the candy bowl in 2017 because Mrs. Tilford had told the story of my fox cake at the harvest party three weeks before. He is visiting Mrs. Henderson for Easter weekend with his mom Renee while his dad is on a work trip. Mrs. Henderson called Mama Wednesday morning to ask if Eli could come over to my kitchen Saturday at lunch — he had told his mom on the drive down from Stillwater that he wanted to learn to make food at Miss Kaylee’s house if Miss Kaylee had time.
I had time. I told Mrs. Henderson yes. I picked the recipe Wednesday night by flipping through the back section of my notebook for something a nine-year-old could help with that did not involve a sharp knife or a hot pan. The floating taco bowls from a Couple Cooks post were the answer. The recipe has been sitting in the back of the notebook for a few weeks waiting for a kid in the kitchen, and Eli was the kid.
The recipe, if you have not seen it, is the kind of novelty bake the cooking blogs run for kids’ birthdays. Small flour tortillas pressed over the outside of upturned oven-safe ramekins on a sheet pan, baked at 375 for ten minutes until the tortilla settles into the ramekin shape and crisps. You lift the cooled tortilla off the ramekin and you have an edible flour-tortilla bowl that holds taco fillings. The novelty is the bowl. The novelty is the kind of thing that makes a nine-year-old on Pinterest shout for the camera. Eli on the kitchen counter Saturday at noon was the test audience.
I want to walk through the math because I always do, and because the cost of a kid-in-the-kitchen lunch is one of the small kitchen items I track. A pack of small flour tortillas $1.49 from Aldi. A pound of ground beef from the Walmart markdown rack $1.99. A packet of taco seasoning $0.49. A small head of iceberg lettuce $0.59. Two Roma tomatoes $1. A small ball of fresh mozzarella from the deli $2.99 (the splurge for the day). Sour cream, lime, garlic, salt. Total cost of the lunch: about $8.55 for eight bowls, which fed Eli (three), his mom Renee (one), Mrs. Henderson (one), Mama (one, when she got home from her shift at four), and me (two).
The technique I want to keep is the inverted-ramekin bake. You preheat the oven to 375. You arrange six oven-safe ramekins (or coffee mugs, or balled-up wads of foil for height; we used four ramekins and two coffee mugs because we did not have six matching ramekins) upside-down on a sheet pan. You drape a small flour tortilla over each upturned ramekin so the tortilla sits down around the sides like a hat. You press the tortilla gently against the ramekin so it takes the shape. You bake for ten minutes. The tortilla crisps on the outside and holds the bowl form. You let them cool on the pan for five minutes before lifting them off — warm tortillas are still flexible and will collapse if you pull them too soon.
Eli pressed the tortillas onto the ramekins himself, with my hands on top of his hands for the first three to show him the pressure, and his hands alone for the last three. He stood on the kitchen step-stool we keep in the corner from when Brayden visits during Mrs. Henderson’s grandchildren overlap weeks. He had on a small green apron Mrs. Henderson had brought over in her tote bag. He pulled the cooled bowls off the ramekins one by one when the timer went off and he announced each one as he did it. Bowl one. Bowl two. Bowl three. The pride in his voice on bowl six was the kind of pride that makes a nine-year-old’s whole face open up.
I browned the ground beef in the cast iron with the taco seasoning while Eli set out the toppings in small bowls along the counter the way the cooking shows do. Iceberg shredded fine. Diced tomato. Crumbled fresh mozzarella (the splurge cheese, which Eli had never had before; he ate three small balls of it standing at the counter while we worked, and I did not stop him). Sour cream in a small bowl with a spoon. The creamy lime dressing in a squeeze bottle Mrs. Henderson had given me a year ago: sour cream, lime juice, lime zest, garlic, salt, blended smooth.
The assembly was the part Eli did entirely himself. He filled each bowl with a scoop of beef on the bottom, lettuce on top of that, tomato, cheese, sour cream, a drizzle of the dressing, all with the kind of careful nine-year-old concentration that makes a kitchen feel like the most important room in the house. He carried two bowls at a time to the table on the small wooden tray Mrs. Tilford had given me last summer. He set them down with both hands. He came back for the next two. By the time Mrs. Henderson and Renee sat down at the table at twelve forty-five, all eight bowls were waiting for them, and Eli was at the head of the table standing on the chair, beaming.
Mrs. Henderson said, when she ate her bowl, Eli, you are a chef. Eli said, I made it with Miss Kaylee. Mrs. Henderson said, that is what makes you a chef. Renee, who had been watching from the doorway, took the recipe card I had written out for Eli and folded it into her purse. She told me at the door when they left that Eli was going to talk about this Saturday for a year, and I was going to write that down on the page in pen because writing-down is what I do with the moments other people might let drift.
The lamb is brining. The deviled eggs are with Mrs. Henderson. The rolls are with Mrs. Tilford. The coconut cake is with Aunt Tammy. The mint-lemon gremolata is going to come together in twenty minutes Sunday morning while the lamb finishes its last hour. Six people at the table tomorrow. The kitchen is the kitchen. The page is the page.
The recipe is below, the way A Couple Cooks wrote it. The trick I want you to keep is the inverted-ramekin bake — drape the tortilla over the upturned ramekin (or coffee mug, or balled foil) and bake until crisp. Let cool on the pan for five minutes before lifting off, or the warm bowl will collapse. The creamy lime dressing is the upgrade, and it is the kind of dressing that travels well in a squeeze bottle in the fridge for a week. Make this with a kid in your kitchen if you have one. The novelty is the point.
Street Corn Salad
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 6 ears fresh corn, kernels cut off the cob (or 4 cups frozen corn, thawed)
- 1 tablespoon olive oil or butter
- 1/3 cup mayonnaise
- Juice of 2 limes (about 3 tablespoons)
- 1 teaspoon chili powder
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 cup crumbled cotija cheese (or grated Parmesan)
- 1/4 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
- Salt and pepper to taste
Instructions
- Roast the corn. Heat olive oil or butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add corn kernels in a single layer and cook for 8–10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until charred in spots. If using frozen corn, make sure it’s fully thawed and patted dry before roasting so it chars instead of steams.
- Make the dressing. In a large bowl, whisk together mayo, lime juice, chili powder, smoked paprika, and minced garlic until smooth.
- Combine. Add the roasted corn to the dressing and toss until every kernel is coated. Fold in the crumbled cotija (or Parmesan) and cilantro. Season with salt and pepper.
- Chill and serve. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving. The salad tastes best cold and keeps in the fridge for up to 5 days — it gets better as it sits.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 145 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 16g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 180mg