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Wednesday, November 4, 2009


I have been told that confession is good for the soul. The release is thought to relieve a burden from the mind and with it, a bit of tension
(or anger – sadness – regret).

(image: Silent Confessions by WeberPhoto)

I find my husband's endless list of food dislikes to be tiresome.

He says he likes mushrooms (but only in his eggs - and only if they are cut up into itty bitty little slivers of flesh). He says he likes beef (but only if it is ground up, or shredded – oh, and overcooked and seasoned to death).

He says likes vegetables (meaning, he likes onions, bell peppers, asparagus and green beans.... but not eggplant, squash, spinach, zucchini. potatoes, celery...and on and on....

Oh, and he doesn't care for pork (unless it is bacon)...and wait, no chicken, or lamb either...
Also, no nuts or seeds in the bread. No. No. No.
There are a lot of Nos.

I acknowledge that I can be quick to anger –

and too easily offended...

When he (who happily eats Hamburger Helper - ick -
and 'ground beef mixed with ranch dressing and tortilla chips' - ew )
criticizes the dinner - I slaved over -
because the “meat chunks are too big,”
or it “would have been better with meat”
… but only if the chunks weren't “too big,” right?

I would give just about anything for him to, no matter what I serve him, think it was the most delicious thing h
e's ever eaten.
And despite the continued frustration when he doesn't... I still go on striving to create aromatic and flavorful dishes that just might one day, be his delight.

(image: Confessions II by ChristyDeKoning)

On the occasions on which I choose to discuss these short-comings, I am often brushed aside as a “food snob.” But the issue is not snobbishness - it is a deep-seeded frustration with his unwillingness to try new things or admit that he may have been wrong about an ingredient.

Slowly, I am accepting that I will forever be cooking for a picky eater.
and SLOWLY, I am beginning to embrace the challenge:
- of getting him to broaden his horizons -
- of creating dishes that are so undeniably delicious that he cannot find fault -
- of sneaking vegetables into his meals -
(right past his “there is something foreign” alarm)

Slowly, he is accepting that sometimes I just can't control my temper.
and SLOWLY, he is beginning to learn that sometimes:
- it is just easier to walk away -
- I may even concede that some things are just not worth fighting about -
(no matter how much I just want him to acknowledge I AM RIGHT...)
- And....sometimes......
- There is just nothing better than my Spaghetti and Meatballs -


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