Throughout the last half of our 35 years together, Rick has referred to me as the Kitchen Girl. He makes reference to my slaving away at preparing and cleaning up meals, of course. He’s not a lot of help, but he is appreciative, which goes a long way to making my indentured status bearable. He insists, however, on turning down the burner level if things get sizzling more than he can bear. “What’s burning??” This, of course, extends the time I have to be slaving away in the kitchen. He needs as much management as the food prep.
We are living a ‘normal’ life in Wisconsin, which means there must be dinner every night. After 3 years on the 2nd shift, I had become quite accustomed to steamed veggies and an occasional salmon burger or Greek salad (all items he doesn’t like). So this thinking about making dinner every night is challenging – not only to my brain and skill, but to the results.
Culinary disasters have been occurring on a too-regular basis – especially around the cooking of eggs. Eggs? Who screws up eggs? Me!
I have told in other posts how I am not someone who enjoys cooking, but I try. We had been married not quite a year when I tried a new recipe, confident it would be a hit because his cousin’s wife had shared it in a recipe exchange. Stuffed Meat Balls. Sounded great so I made it. After eating half of the first one, he diplomatically asked what it was called and where I had learned to make this. He renamed them Death Balls and asked that I never make them again*.
I believe only two more items got the “Death Balls” designation: A fried egg-plant recipe and some no-bake Creme-de-Menthe Christmas cookie. Oh yes, and then there was the marzipan.
At any rate, my tally of these DeathBall events has increased since we arrived in Madison: fake crab salad (there are no crabs in Wisconsin); ‘sloppy pete’ pita sandwiches & Metro Market’s Organic turkey marinara (neither spicy enough to mask the gacky ground turkey with tomato sauce taste) and, my piece de resistance: eggs with runny centers in both the hard boiled and fried eggs varieties (frankly, I think he turned the burner down). All this in the last two months.
Rick has kept his humor, however, and he continues to mess with my burners (he has reason to do this, actually – another story for another time). Last night, after the first bite of my most recent tragedy, he summoned his diplomacy , sharing his thoughts in such a humour manner that I willingly continue my role as the Kitchen Girl. He called my culinary attempts Revenge of the Kitchen Girl**.
That, of course, also sounds like Star Wars. I will redouble my efforts to redeem myself and hope that at some point, we can rename this Episode: ‘RETURN of the Kitchen Girl’.
May the Force be with me.
*The Star Wars theme stuck – we had just seen The Empire Strikes Back in the theater.
**Rick asks that I inform readers that 1) Pumpkin Fluff occurred in Washington and should also be mentioned; and that 2) I agree with his assessments of my disasters – and, I do. I am an obedient if not reverent Kitchen Girl.