单亲家庭所引发的诸多问题已不是什么新鲜话题了，不可否认，由于缺少父母的悉心照顾，单亲家庭的孩子更容易误入歧途。本文的主人公虽然也来自单亲家庭，但他却在孤独中学会独立，在无助中学会自助。烹饪一份完美的鸡肉派让他学会了自制，变得稳重。但其中的美味，却也只能独自品尝，些许无奈，些许感慨。
　　（Tracy）
　　
　　Eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds. This was the exact time needed to cook the perfect Chicken Pot 1)Pie. A 2)miscalculation would almost always result in frozen square carrots, peas that hadn’t 3)shed their top coat of freezer burn and a weak bottom that 4)sagged when removed from the 5)aluminum tin. Although time was always the key factor in the cooking 6)equation, placement also had a significant role. In an oven that held five quarter inch 7)racks the pie had to be placed on the second rack from the top and a little to the left. Perfection, of course, is often a product of circumstance and mine was always ringing the doorbell.
　　“Honey, can you get that it’s Ron.”My mom had this fantastic 8)knack for dating men named Ron. Aside from their name, there was no common characteristic that linked them together. At the age of eleven I assumed that all men, aside from the thirteen boys in my homeroom class, were named Ron. I did, however, account for the slight 9)variations Ronald and Ronaldo. Somehow I was glad they preferred to be called Ron.
　　


　　Timing was everything when I was eleven. Ten seconds after the doorbell rang, my mother would 10)call down and ask me to answer the door. Fifteen seconds later I would agree to her request. I’d spend two minutes with Ron in awkward “so how’s school going”chatter. Another minute would be spent in uncomfortable silence. And after three minutes and twenty-five seconds had elapsed since the sound of the bell, my mother would descend the stairs, 11)pluck her 12)shawl from the 13)railing, 14)fling the excessive cloth around her neck and turn to me with final instruction.
　　“There is a Chicken Pot Pie in the freezer and Marcy’s number is on the refrigerator if you need anything. I won’t be home late.”
　　The freezer introduced me to my adult reality. In the kitchen I was grown up twenty-one not eleven. I had control, 15)poise and precision. Selection was my responsibility. Execution was my responsibility. Timing was my responsibility. 16)Sipping on my solitude, I found strength in the golden brown 17)crust, the brown 18)gravy-like substance, the geometric vegetables and the heat of the oven. Eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds later I would be eating dinner and remarking at my own perfection.
　　


　　十八分三十二秒，这是烘烤出完美的鸡肉派所需要的准确时间。如果时间掌握得不好，那么当食物从铝罐里拿出来后，冰冻萝卜块和豌豆表面的那层冰还没化掉，依然是硬邦邦的，而底部却已经变得软绵绵了。虽然时间的控制是烹饪成功与否的一个关键因素，但鸡肉派摆放的位置也非常重要—在一个有五层架子，每层架子是四分之一英寸（约六点三毫米）厚的烤箱里，要把鸡肉派放在从上往下数的第二层，并且要稍微靠左边一点。当然，完美的造就要视情况而定，而我那炉火纯青的技术，就与那一次次的门铃声不无关系了。
　　“嘿，宝贝，你能去开一下门吗？罗尼来了。”妈妈总有办法和名叫罗尼的人约会。不过除了名字外，他们的个性并没有什么相同之处。在我十一岁的时候，我想当然地认为除了班里的十三个男孩外，所有的男人都叫罗尼。但我还是能分辨出他们之间的一些细微差别——这些简称“罗尼”的男人，原名可能是“罗纳德”，或者是“罗纳尔多”。但他们都愿被叫做“罗尼”，这多少让我感到很高兴。
　　在我十一岁的时候，准确掌握时间对我来说是第一要务。门铃刚响过十秒，妈妈就会大声责骂，让我去开门。十五秒后，我就会按她的要求去做。而接下来的两分钟里，我会和罗尼闲扯着类似“在学校怎么样啊”的一些寒暄话题。接下来的一分钟是尴尬的沉默。门铃响过后的三分二十五秒，妈妈会准时从楼上下来，从横杆上扯下围巾，把一大堆东西套在脖子上，然后给我作最后的指示。
　　“冰箱冷冻室里有鸡肉派，马西的电话号码在冰箱上面，你需要什么就打电话。我不会很晚回来的。”
　　冰箱伴随着我长大成人，我在厨房里长大到二十一岁，而不是十一岁。我为人稳重，具备很好的自制力，并且思维缜密。精挑细选是我的责任，用心制作是我的任务，分秒不差是我的职责。独自吮吸着孤独的滋味，我从这些被烤得金黄色的鸡肉派、褐色的肉汁似的东西，果蔬块以及烤箱散发的腾腾热气中获得了无穷的力量。十八分三十二秒后，我就会开始享用这顿美餐，独自品味这其中的完美。