Today’s post is from a guest blogger. Ten year old Colin wrote this a week or so ago while on a trip to Switzerland. He temporarily traded in his basketball for woodworking and writing. A second wind to complete the story never came, and no edits have been made. “Mediterranean” was spelled correctly, for which I am most impressed. I can't do that consistently. He was not paid for content.

I am rummaging around for inspiration for tonight’s dinner, but am being assaulted by the smell of the Med. Sea every time I open the refrigerator. Unable to make that fish thaw any faster, I must turn towards a cut of meat/veal/pork(?) with a label I cannot read.

I share this because 1) Colin wanted me to, 2) I love his writing, and 3) having your kid recognize something their parent is good at or passionate about is truly food for the soul.

The cook

Me and my six year old brother have a mom who knows the skill of cooking like no one else. Her name is Kate Ballbach. When I have some of her amazing food it makes me feel so happy and joyful because I want to be a food critic when I grow up and I love food. She is skilled because she makes different meals every night, for example she makes Italian pasta one night and the next night she makes some Mediterranean meal. Every meal is so good because she takes so much pride in her work. My dad always says ‘’ when will you learn how good of a cook your mom is” but I have already learned that, [ not sure if my brother has learned].

It's 6:25pm and I am now ready to attack that mysterious meat. I plan to wok it into submission with an over abundance of garlic, ginger, and red chili peppers. After all, I have some discerning food critics waiting.