Van Gogh’s paintbrush…

In all the years I’ve known my husband, I’ve never seen him attempt much of anything- and I do mean anything- in the kitchen, aside from making coffee.  In fact, he frankly and emphatically has dubbed that area of the house to be my “zone.”  However, in very recent weeks he has acquired this amazing interest to prepare meals for our family.  Completely shocked at not only his interest, but also his effort, I gladly let him take the cooking reins and sat back to watch.  His first meal of choice was a recipe from one of his fellow co-workers.  Grilled chicken thighs, cold green beans tossed in olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic and a microwavable, ninety-second bag of rice, I helped by adding a salad.  A thousand pots, pans and dishes later and after examining the chicken, with what he refers to as my “inspection face,” I determined it was edible and was impressed that it actually tasted quite good.

Thrilled by my praise, he decided to take things a little further and whip up everyone’s favorite dish- homemade mac-n-cheese.  Now I’m not going to lie… my unspoken thought was, “Hee hee hee, okay buddy.  Good luck with that one.”  And was further encouraged in my derogatory assumption when he started asking questions like, “What the hell is a roux?  And what type of noodle do I use?  How long do I cook them for?  Do we have a cheese grater?”  But the truth is it was fantastic.  I mean I was a little scared when I saw the jar of mustard powder and the consistency of the dish.  But I can honestly say it was some of the best macaroni and cheese I’ve ever had.

So with all my positive praise and reinforcement, Mr. Julia Child Cartella has developed a bit of an attitude.  An “I’m amazing; look at me in the kitchen Mr. Awesome, attitude.”  For example, tonight he’s decided to “create” again.  And is not only making dinner, but is also baking dessert.  (I’m glad he works for the fire department.)   He’s promised me that when I come home tonight, I’ll be overcome by the wonderful scents filling my home.

However, so far he’s called 3 times to ask what type of oil is in the container I have on the counter and what the difference is between vegetable oil, canola oil, and olive oil, and to ask if I were to bake something in a glass baking dish, what would I use to grease the dish with?  Then he called me back to ask if we had a mixer.

When I asked, “Why? What do you need a mixer for?”

He responded with, “Meghan, did people ask Van Gogh why he needed paint brushes?”


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