From Dinner Disaster to Delight: A Mother’s Day Meal

From Dinner Disaster to Delight: A Mother’s Day Meal


Every year for Mother’s Day, my dad brought home yellow roses and cooked dinner while my siblings and I cleaned house. At least, that’s how things were until I decided to try to cook — emphasis on try. I wanted to do something more than just folding laundry. The meal I made may have been a disaster, but the memories — and laughter — we shared will last a lifetime.

Text by Sarah Vice

Young woman cooking reads cookbook.

Making the Menu

I had no clue what I wanted to make. Pasta would be simple, but didn’t my hard-working mom deserve a little more effort? Tacos sounded good, but I didn’t feel like my cooking could rival my mom’s tacos. In fact, anything I tried to cook would have been sad in comparison to my mom’s home-cooked meals.

Family recipe file close-up.

Finding Family Recipes

I shuffled through a tin box of family recipe cards until I found two that looked good. One was old and written entirely in cursive. It was a recipe for “French Potatoes,” which are very similar to scalloped potatoes. The other recipe card was newer and had my mom’s handwriting all over. It was a recipe for “Italian Chicken” — and it seemed fairly simple.

Woman chops red bell pepper.

Time to Spare

I wanted everything to be perfect. I followed the instructions closely. And I only cut my hand once while slicing the potatoes into thin pieces. I considered that a good sign. Finally, I put the food in the oven and set the timer for thirty minutes. Then I decided to take advantage of the break by laying on the living room couch. It was right next to the kitchen and, I told myself, I wasn’t tired enough to fall completely asleep. And so I took the risk.

Smoke triggering smoke detector.

Wake-Up Call

That was the wrong move. I awoke to the fire alarm and the smell of burnt chicken. My mom had apparently been in the shower. She rushed into the kitchen, wearing a towel. Smoke filled the kitchen, but thankfully, there was no fire. With my mom’s help, I salvaged what little of the charred chicken I could.

She laughed once the smoke cleared and the oven was empty. I watched her take a bite of the blackened meat and then she swallowed. She actually ingested that poison. Then she thanked me and told me how grateful she was that I even tried. And so, I thanked her for being the best mom.  

Thankfully, now I know where to turn if I want to make a delicious meal for Mother’s Day: Market Table. Check out our catering options, or swing by to see our fresh, delicious, and, most importantly, fully prepared take-home meals.

End A Bad Day On A High Note

End A Bad Day On A High Note

When everything goes wrong, let Market Table be your BFF.

Today was one of those days that most moms know well… A day where all of your scheduling, planning ahead and organization efforts are rendered futile, your children transform into demons, and the world seems to work against you in every way. And it all happened before 8am.

I’ll spare you most of the gory details and give a quick recap. My morning looked something like this:

Woke up. Immediately sensed something was amiss. Stepped in a pile of poop that the puppy so graciously left at my bedside. How thoughtful. On to get the kids up. My youngest is already awake, and he’s covered himself in diaper cream. Fantastic. We’ll let the husband deal with that one. My oldest is awake, happy, but has some major goop seeping out of a bloodshot eye — pink eye. Wonderful. Looks like she’ll be tagging along to that 10 a.m. meeting. Next up is breakfast, where all hell breaks loose. Both kids are suddenly screaming and utterly heartbroken because they’re being forced to eat blueberry muffins … the same blueberry muffins they refused to leave the grocery store without just one day prior. Curious how things change so fast. Breakfast is followed by tantrums regarding one not wanting to wear rain boots and the other needing a specific pink colored bow that we can’t seem to find (not sure we ever even owned) but MUST wear today or we will die.

Finally, we’re out the door and on our way. And then the car won’t start. Dead battery. Glorious.  

At that point, I wanted so badly to throw my hands up, cry “Uncle!” and have someone else take over for the day. But I’m a mom. We don’t have the luxury of giving up on a bad day and hiding in a cave where no one can find us. So, I did my best to muddle through the rest of the day. After a late afternoon doctor’s appointment for eye drops, I realized that I wouldn’t be able to get dinner on the table in time. But then I remembered: there is help out there. At least, help for dinner.

A 3-minute stop into Market Table, and I had chicken fingers and mac & cheese for the kids, a slow-smoked pork belly and cauliflower fried rice for the husband, and a bottle (ok … two bottles) of wine for myself. Done, done and done.

So, as I sit here with that (second) bottle of wine, just know that no matter how badly your day goes, it can always end well with Market Table.