Unless you are a friend and we have you over for dinner. Which we do quite often, so it really does pay to be my friend. I'm okay with being used for my husband's cooking. I just want to win the popularity contest.
So, tonight, my good ol' hubby is making his amazing Chicken Cordon Bleu. He's not making it for me, he's making it for a friend (see, it pays to be his friend, too). My husband is a pretty amazing cook. He's always been a better cook than me. He's better than me at most things except for music. Music's mine and he can't have it.
Anyway, it reminded me of a story I thought I'd share. When we first got married, all I really knew how to cook was spaghetti. And not the Ragu stuff. Granted, I don't make it from fresh tomatoes, but the ability season tomato sauce is a skill. It really is, so say I. Well, in our first week of marriage, I decided to venture and make him Tator Tot Hotdish. So, I make this dish and it was AWFUL! It wasn't a casserole, it was some sort of milky soupy thing with veggies, bland meat and soggy tator tots, with cheese on top. I cried and he ate, declaring it's goodness. He even ate a second helping and took some for work the next day. Although I knew that he was suffering by eating this crap on a plate, I thought, "Oh, how romantic. He eats my food even when it's bad." (Later on down the road in our marriage I realized that my husband is a "waste-not, want-not" kind of guy. He'll eat anything as horrific as it may be as long we're not wasting the meat that cost us money.)
While I was struggling to make a simple casserole, he's making shrimp scampi, chicken cordon bleu, stuffed peppers, homemade french fries and the list just goes on and on. There's nothing this man can't cook. He honestly makes the best turkey at Thanksgiving.
Tonight, he's making on of my favorite meals and I'll come home from work for chicken, garlic mashed potatoes and sauteed green beans w/ a salad. And food is so exciting to me, I thought I'd blog about it.
**Update: Dinner was awesome.