Every day I thank my lucky stars (no joke!) because I happened to have married an amazing cook that keeps my family not only satisfied but healthy as he provides us with food–good food–without fail on a daily basis.
In fact, he’s so good, that any cooking skill I actually brought to this union was quickly cast aside (right along with my motivation to workout five days a week and the belief that drinking is just for special occasions).
Why cook when you have a live-in chef?
I have actually gotten so dependent on my husband’s cooking that when he is out-of-town, I find myself wondering which of the three options my kids will be willing to cook for themselves once we settle in for the evening.
Toast is option #3 and goes a long way in my house–there’s dinner toast (with butter), lunch toast (with honey), and breakfast toast (with jelly). The problem is when…THE BREAD IS GONE! In that case, I can only hope my kids have raided my treat box at work and have eaten some gum, peppermints or candy canes which will hopefully buy me a little time once I get home to get a game plan together.
Don’t be judgy. We have a fruit bowl.
Well, a couple of weekends ago my husband and I took our twin daughters with some friends of theirs to Atlanta to celebrate their 10th birthday. We had already done the big fancy cake thing (two–of course $$), so I decided to buy a not so fancy cake to take with us for our night in Atlanta. I let the girls pick it out, and quickly approved because it was a beauty. (It was basically a sponge with lard on it but whatever.) It was sweet and pretty. Win win.
Once we arrived at the condo where we were staying for the night, my husband, Mr. Gourmet Cook himself began quickly preparing a lovely little ensemble of guacamole, crackers, specialty cheeses, and apples for the girls to snack on. After eating the fancy treats and deciding they were so full that dinner would not be a necessity, they exclaimed they were ready for cake and ice cream–me too!
I fixed all of the girls a huge slice (myself included–I’d been eyeballing that cake all day) and offered a piece to my husband who quickly refused whispering in my ear that it was basically inedible.
Well, I guess he thought that grand statement was going to have me running to the nearest garbage disposal to spare me of the garbage I was about to put in my mouth…
Well, as I was lapping down this hideously delicious, (God-awful) grocery store-bought angel food cake with a too-bright strawberry gel frosting garnish, I see my husband eyeing me suspiciously doubting everything he ever believed about my compliments on his amazing cuisine.
If she will eat that plate of something I won’t even eat on my kid’s birthday then maybe she will eat…anything…AND LOVE IT!
I can see his mind racing with thoughts wondering if he is really as good as he thinks he is in the kitchen. I mean she practically licked the plate clean of something I wouldn’t consider giving my own dog.
The truth is–I like good food. I know when food is bad, and I know when food is excellent. I also know when it’s just so bad..it’s good.
Here’s my point. Twinkies are a weird, spongy cake paired with a filling that would take the paint off your car…and they’re delicious…and…you know they are. You may not be able to order them off the menu of a Zagat recommended restaurant, but millions have been sold and millions more are yet to be sold.
I’m simply flexible. I’m not picky, and that doesn’t mean I don’t have a sophisticated palate. I just know that when food is offered you eat. It may be good, it may be bad, or it may be great.
One thing that is for sure, when my husband’s in charge, we eat like kings.
And this is me when he’s back…