Ironically, I am likely the only blogger whose mother doesn’t actually read her blog.

This, instead of the blogger whose only reader is their mom, which I guess would be worse!

The irony is this: Today, I am going to talk about my Mom’s first published recipe.  One that I published in my first (and only) cookbook.

Okay, so it was self-published.  And I wasn’t the only cook in the book.

And this was twenty-some years ago?

Well, perhaps thirty.

The cookbook was a project in JA (Junior Achievments).  I wish I still owned a copy.  It is currently out of print.  I guess all of the moms bought them up?

If Mom were reading this, she would probably tell you I have it all wrong.  Which, let’s face it, likely, I might.  This is my story to tell though, so I’ll pretend not to hear her.  She’d probably agree that I’d do that too.

We ate pretty straight-up meals for dinner when I was a kid; roast beef, meat loaf, the occasional salmon cake and the like.  Lots of vegetables, as long as they came from the freezer or out of a can.  Salad.  We did eat salad.  I was usually in charge of that (and still am).

Most nights it was your typical family dinner.  Scott and I took turns setting the table (Mark was too young).  We discussed the news and our school work, while I picked at my plate.

We were expected to finish everything, yes, even our daily glass of milk (which explains why my piano teacher had to keep telling me to cut my fingernails).

I liked eating dinner at my best friend Mary’s house; they drank water over there.  And ate homemade pizza for dinner.  And chicken dumplings.  Ice cream was often for dessert.  No washing dishes for me on those nights; I wasn’t even allowed to clear my plate from the table.  Those were the days.

However, on occasion, Mom would surprise us and make fried won tons.  For dinner!  Those nights were the best.  “Junk food” for dinner, and we were not usually allowed to eat junk.

Unless Grandpa Edwards was around.  Then we drank soda pop, ate potato chips, and only used milk to dip cookies.  But I digress.

Tuna won tons sound unusual, even to me.  But trust me, they’re delish!  Mom would open up the Starkist Tuna (2 cans) and dump them into a mixing bowl.

Then she unwrapped the silver foil from the Philly cream cheese after removing it from its’ box.

Onion was chopped (which always made me shed tears), Worcestershire sauce, mustard and lemon juice; I think that was it.  All mixed up in the bowl, then plopped onto the square dough wrappers and carefully closed up.

I loved watching the oil.  It was bubbly hot as the packages dropped into the pan.  They spurted and spat as they started to crisp.

Mom flipped them over, toasting the other side before removing them to a plate lined in paper towels where she would sprinkle them with salt and playfully slap our hands away as we tried to sneak one before supper.

The best part was the simplicity of their deliciousness.  No salad, no can of peas.  Not even milk.  We ate them happily, pulled from a large bowl placed centrally on the table, one after the next.

My version is a little fussier but not much.  Tom reacts much the same way I used to when told tuna won tons were on the menu for dinner; on his best behavior because he too is a fan.

I use green onions rather than red, add cilantro and wasabi (because we like the kick), and serve a simple sake sauce next to a garnish of fresh greens and slices of grapefruit or pickled ginger.

In other news, we welcome a new member into the extended family this month.  Kiki Edwards, a Havanese, weighing in at 4 pounds at 4 months-old was adopted last Saturday by my brother Mark’s family in Alaska.  Her cousins are already eagerly awaiting a visit!

Us, We couldn’t be more thrilled!  She looks like a feisty one with a bit of Bitsy (Mark’s childhood dog) and our Ginger mixed in.

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