Mock Spaghetti

Being an expat parent can be trying at times. As a single working mother I never solved the dichotomy of being in two places at one time, even when I worked at my daughter's school. I also faced the challenge of keeping her Canadian-American cultural literacy intact--ie, she needed to know about poutine and candy corn and April Fool's and REAL Halloween (my favorite holiday.)

One of my traditions is to make "mock" food on April Fool's Day. Sure as shit, every year my daughter would forget that those weren't real cupcakes being served at breakfast, but rather mini-meatloaves frosted in blue mashed potatoes. Spaghetti was sponge cake (not Twinkies--you can get excellent fresh sponge cake here pretty much everywhere at any time)  with frosting piped all over it. The sauce was strained raspberry jam, thinned with a bit of brandy. To assemble:  Freeze the sponge cake, pipe the frosting all over it (I prefer home made cream cheese frosting) and freeze that solid. Strain the jam, thin with a bit of brandy, and warm gently. Let it cool, then pour over the sponge cake. Add malted milk balls as "meatballs" (I work them over with a little screen first to give the right texture) then serve to a child who is thrilled to have spaghetti and meatballs--and then starts wailing when she realizes mean ol' Mommy tricked her AGAIN.

Note: I have pulled this stunt every April Fool's Day since she was three, and she still forgets. And she still cries.  The third traditional trauma prank is a simple "fried egg" which is really a pool of whipping cream, half a tinned apricot, and "salt and pepper" made up of grated nutmeg. I traditionally serve the meatloaf cupcake at breakfast (WAAAH!) with the egg chaser (dessert) and the spaghetti is served as dessert after whatever reconciliatory meal I have been forced to whip out of my ass to keep her from going ballistic again.

Semi- Homemade my ass! That's real cream cheese frosting!

Why, do you ask, why do you TORTURE your POOR DAUGHTER like this? Simple. Because every 2nd of April, she stops crying about it and says, "That was pretty funny, huh, Mommy? Will you do it again next  year, PLEASE?" And lucky little Mommy takes taxis all over town the last week of March to find Whoppers and cream cheese and all, spends hours in the kitchen mixing it up in secret, only to be greeted with fresh wails and "OH, not AGAIN! WAAAAHHHHHH!"