One thing I’ve learned after my first year of marriage is that I don’t really like to cook. I L-O-V-E to bake…Cookies, challah (bread), cupcakes, muffins…You name it. (I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’m a pretty darn good baker!)
Any way, I’m not so much in love with “cooking,” as in making delicious gourmet meals. If it has more than five ingredients in it, or it takes longer than say 10 minutes to make, I don’t want to mess around with it.
I know what you’re thinking. But Nikki, baking oftentimes has more than five ingredients, and it always takes longer than 10 minutes to bake something.
To which I’ll respond…Ah yes, but when I’m baking something, it’s always for later (muffins in the morning, cookies after dinner, etc., etc.). When I’m cooking something, it’s because I’m starving and ready to eat it right then and there!
My husband, on the other hand, is a wanna-be chef. He insists on everything he makes be completely from scratch. (Heaven forbid I buy pre-minced garlic!) AND, my husband always insists on tackling the most random, complicated recipes known to man, complete with the most obscure ingredients. Seeing as how I’m the designated grocery shopper, hunting down said rare ingredients makes my life a living hell. And don’t even get me started on the outrageous price tags that come with these exotic ingredients!
Not to mention the fact that his meals take FOREVER to make. For those of you who know me, when I’m hungry, I need to eat NOW. Not later, not one-and-a-half hours from the time present, NOW. (I tend to get antsy and a tad bit irritable if I’m not fed quickly when I’m hungry.) And why does his meals take forever to make? Because he refuses to cut corners and buy a couple of things already prepared. (Lord help me if I even suggest we buy canned pumpkin for his pumpkin soup recipe. No! He needs fresh pumpkins!)
And let’s not forget the whirlwind of messes my husband creates while he cooks up one of his homemade concoctions. When he’s done in the kitchen, not a single pot is clean, not a single utensil has gone unused, and no garbage has found its way into the trash can. It literally looks like a cyclone came into our kitchen and swept everything out of the cabinets and fridge and sprawled it all over the counters, stove top and floor.
I keep telling my husband that when he has screaming, whining kids (and a wife) who are hungry after a hard day at school/work, we’re not going to want to wait for hours before our dinner will be done. We’ll get by just fine with my quick meals when that point comes.
I repeated this to him last night as we sat down to try his latest gastronomical adventure. I took one bite, chewed slowly and swallowed. I took another bite and another and another, until there was nothing left on my plate. I quietly stood up and took my plate to the kitchen.
My husband asked me, “So how was it?”
I turned on the water and clinked some dishes around for a second, making it sound like I was washing my plate. Then I tip-toed over and stuck my fork into the pot of yummy goodness and proceeded to push a couple more forkfuls into my mouth while looking around hesitantly and chewing quickly.
I swallowed the extra helpings and leaped over to the sink within seconds of my husband appearing in the kitchen doorway. “Eh, it’s OK I guess.” I said shrugging, as I took his plate.
(PSSSSTTTT! Let’s just keep this whole thing of me sneaking more bites and referring to my husband’s dinner as a “pot of yummy goodness” within this blog, OK?)