It has occurred to me that the more helpless a woman is, the more apt her man will be to help about the kitchen. Case-in-point: My husband Christopher. Christopher is not a man lacking in basic kitchen skills, nor is he, like some, unable to follow simple recipes or instructions. However, I did not realize that he WASN'T a perfect imbecile around the kitchen UNTIL the very first time I was too sick to cook.
As it turns out, my husband is a whiz at making breakfast. Falling ill from cramps one Saturday morning rather early into our marriage, Christopher shocked my palate with a perfectly decent breakfast. Although the presentation may be somewhat lacking (at least compared to my artistic attempts at television-perfect plating techniques, napkin folding, and the employment of various garnishes of the edible and not-so-edible varieties), the taste was surprisingly good, and after all, that IS what matters. His more-than-edible eggs, beautifully fried bacon, and savory home style grits were the first surprise of many.
While his meal choices started somewhat predictably, (eggs and bacon for breakfast, soup and sandwiches for lunch, etc) I could by no means complain about his efforts. Of course, cooking is a chore that I would gladly undertake three times a day,( most days), so he gets few chances to shine as the Lone Ranger of the kitchen, although he often works as my sous chef. But how does a master know what his sous chef is capable of, if he does not let him work alone from time to time? And so, two Valentine's Days ago, when Christopher announced that he was going to blow my mind with his single-handedly prepared Valentine's Day Dinner menu, I had high expectations. But once again, my husband succeeded. He actually did bowl me over with flavor and variety so unexpected that I was speechless for nearly half the night. The lesson here: If you want your wife or girlfriend to shut up for an evening, cook for her a mind-altering feast the likes of which she never thought you were capable of. That night, we dined on superbly roasted duck a l'orange, home style mashed potatoes with sauteed mushrooms and onions, and sweet-savory grilled asparagus. He even concocted a homemade pineapple-mango sorbet for dessert. It was overall, one of the best home cooked meals I'd ever eaten.
The author's husband on the night he ended up COOKING
What reminded me of all of my husband's culinary attempts was last night's supper. With a pulled shoulder muscle, Christopher tucked me into the living room couch with a movie, announcing that he was to be cooking that night. I hear rustling in the refrigerator, and chopping on the counter. I smell something frying, and cannot guess what he is making with the various bits-of-nothing laying about the larder. The result was a surprisingly good Texas Hash, which he pulled out of my Better Homes and Garden's cookbook. Savory bacon, fried beef, crisp okra, sweet tomatoes and caramelized onions baked in a casserole with freshly-prepared basmati rice. Wow. Amazing. I'm actually craving more. If he gets much better at cooking, I may have to start playing hooky from the kitchen. Or at least feign a headache a few times a month. Apparently, nothing motivates a man to cook more than a woman in distress, and lately, nothing motivates me more to eat than a man who can really cook.
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