Food for Thought

Food for Thought

The day I met my husband, he came over to my apartment and invited me out to eat. My response to him was: “I don’t do food.” He said, “Oh, I’m a chef.” We laughed and the rest is history. I really didn’t do food. I was in the habit of fasting regularly, up to a month at a time and rarely had more than an instant breakfast in an entire day. I still live primarily on only an instant breakfast a day with the exception of Sundays.

It’s not that I don’t know how to cook. My parents divorced when I was twelve and I was left home alone with blank checks made out to the local grocery store and cupboards full of cookbooks and recipe boxes. I became so good a cook my sister used to have me come over to her house every time she would have a date come for dinner and prepare the meal before her date arrived so that he would not know she could not cook. My future brother in law was in for a great shock when they finally got married as he was accustomed to my cooking and it was a great effort for my sister to make a box of macaroni and cheese properly. We still tease her mercilessly to this day. Over their 30 year marriage, she has learned to do a little of the cooking but he is still the primary cook in the home.

Being married to a chef is sort of like being married to a brain surgeon in a way. People automatically assume that I am incompetent at my husband’s profession merely because of the status he has acquired. I don’t imagine too many wives of brain surgeons are invited in to help out in the operating room either; however, those who knew me before I married always thought of me as the best cook they had ever known. One doesn’t have to like eating to love cooking.

As a result of my reputation within my family, and the fact that my husband is tired of cooking by the time he finally has a day off, I still remain the primary cook at home; however, food is something we only do on Sundays when my parents come for a large family dinner. 3:00 Sunday dinner has not been missed in uncountable Sundays regardless of external circumstances. Whether I am making an International selection of foods or simply slow roasted au jus sandwiches, my parents bring a giant batch of instant mix coleslaw with sauce and dinner and a movie night begins.

As my parents are British, our meals are missing the typical carbohydrates and casseroles that American’s eat. They consist of a meat entrée, a vegetable dish and…COLE SLAW!!!