Mother knows best

Cooking with my mom was more stressful than anticipated. We had each foreseen different plans for the night - she wanted to go out, I wanted to stay in. After much quabbling we decided to stay in and make tacos. I know all moms have mom tendencies, but I didn't know she couldn't turn it off. She immediately questioned if my hands were washed, then continued to complain about the unfreezing of the frozen chicken and the wilting spinach. Then questioned if my hands were washed again. And again. And again. I finally got the message: chicken is full of germs. I don't know if she didn't straight-up tell me this on purpose or not, but it was kind cool to learn-on-the-go. We didn't use a recipe, and just chopped up the mushrooms, onions, and chicken to cook up in a pan. 




We kept some mushrooms raw and mixed them with some spinach. 


Everything came together rather quickly, and we were both hungry by the time we filled our tacos. 

This is the one and only time I have seen my mom in a t-shirt. She didn't want to get her work clothes dirty.

After the events of Marathon Monday, I was a wreck on Tuesday. I called my mom in tears several times throughout the day, still shivering and shaking from the day before, and asked her to come to Boston for dinner. I wanted nothing that day than to get a hug from my mom, even at 23-years-old. She picked the place to eat this time, and she obviously chose Italian, our default heritage comfort food. She chose Ristorate Villa-Francesca, a cute restaurant in the north end. I was still full of tears when we sat down, and my mom whispered to me that I made the waiter feel very uncomfortable. We concluded that we would give him a big tip at the end of our meal. For dessert I got custard, which was presented too beautifully to not take a picture. I can't express the gratitude towards my mom coming to see me and now calling me multiple times a day during the most intense week of my life. Love you, mom!