Young Royals: What...now?

Bollos Pelones.

Simon

After his mom gave him the dinner assignment, Simon deliberated what he could make. If he just made noodles, she'd definitely roll her eyes at him.

I could make pizza, he considered. Then, he looked up the recipe for pizza, realized that pizza dough had yeast in it, and dumped that plan before it got off the ground.

He searched through his mom's cookbooks she'd brought from Venezuela. 

Arepas? Greasy. 

Hallacas? 18,000 steps.

Pan de jamón? 5 hours + yeast.

This search was turning out to be harder than he expected.

How do people do this everyday? he wondered, leafing through each book and seeing all of the ingredients and steps that went into each one.

On page 183 out of 190, he struck gold.

Bollos pelones.

These were his favorite. His grandmother used to make them every week, and there were only, gulp, 15 ingredients. 

As he perused the ingredient list, he noticed that most of the stuff on the list were normal ingredients- olives, onions, ground beef, tomato paste.

He'd have to ask his mom if they still had harina pan, but otherwise, it was all easy-to-get stuff.

This could actually be fun, he thought to himself. 

---

Friday finally arrived, and his mother had managed to find all the ingredients he needed.

"Do you want me to help, mi amor?" she asked with a concerned look on her face.

"Nah, I've got it, Mom. Call you if I need you, okay?" he replied, as he read through the instructions and checked off the ingredients.

First he made the filling. Cook the onions, throw in the rest of the veggies, mix in the meat, add some salt and pepper. No biggie.

Next, the sauce.. Tomato paste, water, salt, done. 

Now time for the dough. This was the tricky bit. The recipe was clear. 'Mix properly to avoid clumps'.

How do I 'mix properly'? he pondered. 

He looked in the drawer for something that would mix the harina and chicken broth well. He came up with nothing.

Then, he looked at his hands. Here goes nothing, he thought, as he rolled up his sleeves.

Second later, his palms were mashing the gooey, sandy mix in the bowl, creaming it together as he rubbed it through his fingers. 

He tasted a bit of the mixture. There, creamy, he decided. He smiled to himself. Maybe he could cook after all.

He took a ball of dough, cored it out, and added the filling. Then he closed the dough ball up, and threw it in hot water. They floated just like the recipe said they would!

I am a genius, he congratulated himself.

Once all the balls were done, he laid them out on three plates- one for Sara, Mom, and him - and poured the tomato sauce over it.

It looked like a work of art.

"Guys! It's ready!" he called out from the kitchen.

As Sara and Mom came to the table, they just stared at the beautifully-prepared plates.

Sara gasped. "You made this? Like, by yourself?"

"It looks beautiful, mijo. Just like how abuelita makes it." She winked at him, her smile radiating pride.

And when they sat down to eat it, it tasted just as good as it looked. And then some.

"Whatever guy ends up getting you is going to think he won the lottery," his mother remarked between chewy bites. 

Simon smiled at the comment. At least my mom thinks I'm a catch, he thought to himself. 

However, as he was eating, another thought passed through his mind.

Wille would have loved this.