Hot Times At Home

Bill only lets me prepare food occasionally and with a great deal of reluctance.  This is because when I’m turned loose in the kitchen, it makes him crazy.  Bill makes great meals and wonderful baked goods, but he’s a very precise, neat chef; I, on the other hand, just sort of wing it and clean up later.  So, when I cook, Bill hovers over my shoulder, making sure I mop up the dribbled liquid, flour dustings and herb and spice crumbs as I go, not after the fact.  And because of his propensity to offer unsolicited and continuous ‘suggestions and advise,’ I prefer that he cook and I assist.  Should anyone ask, this is the secret to our wedded bliss.

Most mornings, Bill is surfing the web for recipes for dinner ideas.  I love the meals he comes up with.  Mom, on the other hand, seems to have lost not only her sense of smell, but her ability to utter any hint of appreciation for most of the meals either of us prepare.  I do get a thank you when I bring out her nightly glass of wine, as well as her dessert bowl of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream.  And a frozen Banquet dinner of salt and fat laden mystery meat is always a hit.  But Bill continues to strive towards creativity in the hopes that something he prepares will spark something resembling interest.

He loves hot, spicy food, but has had to curtail his appetite since we’ve moved here.  He’ll get Jalapeño and Habanero-laced Mexican food, slather hot, spicy mustard on egg rolls, and pile his Sushi with globs of Wasabi when we eat out, but cooking at home means taming things down.  So now, his latest ploy is to make food with a bit of spice and see how far he can go before Mom notices.

The chicken and green chili enchiladas went down without a word; the orange chicken got a slight twitch and nose flair; the chipotle corn chowder got an eyebrow raise and a brief throat clearing.  But the Jambalaya pretty much set her hair on fire.  It rapidly devolved into a Banquet dinner night.  Thank goodness they only take five minutes to nuke.

So now Bill’s walking this culinary tightrope between preparing food that he can actually savor and take pleasure in, and setting off Mom’s gag reflex.  Me?  I just sit back, stay out of the way and enjoy anything he makes.  I mean really, how many women’s husbands cook, clean, fold cloths and do windows?


2 Comments on “Hot Times At Home”

  1. Sounds like a keeper!

    I can’t be in the kitchen with a messy cook. It just ends in arguments which sours the taste of what inevitably turns out to be a fabulous meal. Better to pretend it isn’t happening – and remove all flamable items…

    • Patt says:

      I know what you mean – just coming at it from the opposite side. It’s better to be his assistant than the head chef. Keeps life happier and mealtime nicer. Glad you liked my post, thanks for taking the time.

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