This morning though, I woke up to go to the bathroom and John was getting ready. His back had been bothering him and as I got back into bed I heard a little grunt of pain. It is an involuntary sound that breaks my heart. I came downstairs to see him sitting in his chair and not looking good. I told him that we were going to the emergency room and when he didn't argue, I knew he was really hurting.
Five hours later we were on our way home with a prescription for muscle relaxants and orders to rest for the next few days. I, of course panicked, as that meant I would have to cook. I have not made it any secret here or anywhere that I can't cook.
When our son was in second grade, John was out of town and his mom picked Chris up at school. It was a winter day and just starting to snow. Grandma commented that Chris would have to shovel snow when he got home.
"No," he said. "That's Dad's job."
"Your dad isn't home. You have to be the man of the house", my mother-in-law reminded him.
His eyes filled up with tears and he looked at his grandma.
"But...I can't cook!"
So telling all this I knew I had to think of something in my skill set. I decided I could handle Quesadillas. John said we had smoked chicken in the freezer. So I got that out to defrost.
I threw it into the pan to heat it up.
I put some water in the pan to moisten it up and added the spices that John told me would make them fajita flavored. A couple Tablespoons of chili powder, a Tablespoon of paprika, a couple teaspoons of Cumin, and about a teaspoon of garlic powder.
It bubbled away.
After it simmered away some of the liquid I was ready.
Hot pan, a little butter and a tortilla.
A fuzzy shot of adding the Mexican cheese. We have a lot of cheese right now, Hy-Vee has it on sale for a dollar a bag. Thank goodness we can buy cheese!
A scoop of the smoky, spicy chicken.
A flip in half.
Just right. It cooks really fast. I made six of these in about ten minutes.
A little salsa and sour cream and it is done. A dinner even I can make!