Notice I emphasized can. Just because I can doesn't necessarily mean I do. The best thing I make for dinner is reservations! Dan, on the other hand, is a trained chef. We made the agreement when we first got married that whoever cooked, the other did the dishes. Mr. Virgo can cook a meal for 20 people and you would never know someone had been in the kitchen. He cleans as he goes. Me? I scramble up a couple of eggs for breakfast and you would think I had been cooking for a bunch of Storm Troopers for three days! I can't seem to get organized in the kitchen. I leave the cabinet doors open (remember Mr. Virgo?) and use five utensils for every one that's actually needed.
My former husband was not a picky eater. If he didn't have to cook it, he didn't really care what was placed in front of him. He'd just slather it with hot sauce and he was fine. I once told him I was going to start serving him Alpo since he couldn't taste anything else but the Tobasco anyway. (You think maybe that's why we're not married anymore?) But Dan...he has a discerning palate! And he wants to know at 7 o'clock in the morning what he's going to have for dinner that night. Are you kidding me? I don't know if I want a second cup of coffee at that ungodly hour!
I only work three days a week and I can't expect my sweet hubby to come home from a long day at work and cook for me. So, I've tried my best. One day, he called me from work and told me he had his mouth set for hot wings. He makes the BEST hot wings! I told him I was sure I could do that. I went to the store to buy some chicken wings. When I got home, I called hubby to ask him how he makes the wings. He told me to turn the oven on to 350 degrees, put a lot of garlic salt on them, and bake them for an hour and a half. I thought that sounded awfully long, but he's the chef, not me. He got home and changed for dinner. His mouth was watering from the wonderful aroma of these wings he'd been waiting for all day. I pulled out the pan with pride to show off that indeed, I can cook. Those poor little things were hard and dried up, but not wanting to discourage me, he said they looked fine. We sat down to eat and the poor man nearly broke a crown trying to gnaw on what resembled chicken jerky. We sat quietly for a few minutes and I looked over at his attempts to chew. I noticed he was struggling but I also didn't want to admit I had screwed up dinner...again! Finally I told him it was obvious he wasn't enjoying the wings (I mean, really...how could he?) He very graciously informed me that what I bought were drumettes, not wings. They only need to be cooked about 20 minutes!
My former husband was not a picky eater. If he didn't have to cook it, he didn't really care what was placed in front of him. He'd just slather it with hot sauce and he was fine. I once told him I was going to start serving him Alpo since he couldn't taste anything else but the Tobasco anyway. (You think maybe that's why we're not married anymore?) But Dan...he has a discerning palate! And he wants to know at 7 o'clock in the morning what he's going to have for dinner that night. Are you kidding me? I don't know if I want a second cup of coffee at that ungodly hour!
I only work three days a week and I can't expect my sweet hubby to come home from a long day at work and cook for me. So, I've tried my best. One day, he called me from work and told me he had his mouth set for hot wings. He makes the BEST hot wings! I told him I was sure I could do that. I went to the store to buy some chicken wings. When I got home, I called hubby to ask him how he makes the wings. He told me to turn the oven on to 350 degrees, put a lot of garlic salt on them, and bake them for an hour and a half. I thought that sounded awfully long, but he's the chef, not me. He got home and changed for dinner. His mouth was watering from the wonderful aroma of these wings he'd been waiting for all day. I pulled out the pan with pride to show off that indeed, I can cook. Those poor little things were hard and dried up, but not wanting to discourage me, he said they looked fine. We sat down to eat and the poor man nearly broke a crown trying to gnaw on what resembled chicken jerky. We sat quietly for a few minutes and I looked over at his attempts to chew. I noticed he was struggling but I also didn't want to admit I had screwed up dinner...again! Finally I told him it was obvious he wasn't enjoying the wings (I mean, really...how could he?) He very graciously informed me that what I bought were drumettes, not wings. They only need to be cooked about 20 minutes!
I can grill steaks, make a pot roast, and my spaghetti is pretty darned good if I do say so myself. I'm great at ordering pizza and picking up Subway on my way home from work. But if Dan hasn't had to work that day, he does the real cooking. That's fine. I'll just wash the dishes and look pretty!
Be good to each other!
Ginny
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