Tuesday, February 16, 2016
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"Do you have any plans for dinner?"
"Other than that?"
"What kind of food?"
Yep. We are THAT couple. The gag goes on as long as possible until one of us cracks. Today it was me. I gave in.
"How about pasta and veggies with rotisserie chicken?" I suggested. "As long as you can stop and get a chicken on your way home." (The last line delivered at a much quicker pace and slightly lower volume.)
I knew he was hooked before he actually spoke real words. The oh so simple meal is one of his favorites. And no matter how many times I say it, he never actually believes that it's probably the easiest meal in my cooking repertoire. I mean...it's just zucchini and yellow squash sauteed with a little bit of olive oil, salt and pepper. Toss in a few broccoli tops, some quartered mushroom caps, chopped chicken (that the grocery store so expertly cooked up for me), and you've got a meal. Just in case that's not quite filling enough, toss in a little pasta, and dinner is served!
We love to cook together. In fact, despite what I would have imagined, I actually like having him in the kitchen with me. I like that he gets in my way when I'm moving from the sink to the refrigerator. His towering height comes in handy when I need a cup or dish from a high shelf. And slowly but surly, I'm even learning to delegate the jobs that need to be done.
Tonight, however, the cooking was all on me. "I'm going to try and stay out of your way until you need or ask for help." Feeling a little bit like the 1950's housewife...I cooked dinner for my man. Me. The independent one who "don't need no man". I cooked for him. And I liked it. My, how things change!
(And right now, he's cleaning up the kitchen. I did cook, after all. This whole housewife thing only goes so far.)