I can't find a job, so I'm a househusband. I do the cleaning, grocery shopping, and cooking. One-Who-Knows-All can't cook unless she agonizes over a book, makes notes, memorizes, and has an assortment of measuring devices and vessels. Me- I grab a handful of something and throw it across the kitchewn. However much hits the pot is how much is in the recipe. Who cares- I do the clean-up anyway!
As any decent executive chef does, I discuss the menu for later in the day. EVERY SINGLE time she says, "OK. I'm happy with just a baked potato and cottage cheese"
Uh-huh... So, last yesterday I tell her I decided to make spaghetti- only it's going to have polska keilbassa and beans in it instead of the usual ground beef. I get a new response;
"What?! Oh no. No. That's too weird. Noooooo."
>thinking...<
Why are you so conservative? You like polska keilbassa in other things?
"Noop. Too weird-"
OK. I'm gonna make 2 sauces. Yours can be plain old everyday.
So. I had the beans already soaking from the day before and put them on to boil.
Later, I start the sauce. Big leaves of fresh basil. I saute onions and whole cloves of garlic. Women seem to like the visuals of big chunks of things they think might be healthy. So we have cloves of garlic that look like whales coming to the surface and big strings of cooked basil that all look like seaweed- all swimming in a tomatoe sauce ocean.
Now I'm cooking sliced up sausage. Almost burn it for extra flavor. Ding-dong beans seem to be taking longer than usual... Finally, they're a little on the al dente side. I have split the sauce up into two pots; beans and keilbassa and carmelized onions in one, just plain-Jane ground beef in the other. They both sit.
OWKA comes home from sending bad karma into outerspace and goes right to the red wine. Eyes half closed as she looks through the ceiling out to the sky, you can sense her - well, something- is being washed away. Every night a new baptism of something I'll never "get".Then she tastes "her" sauce; "Mmmm. Good sauce" Then "my" sauce;
Now this is part of what drives me nuts- right here. Women seem to have a way of allegedly tasting things where you can't testify in court that you actually SAW something being tasted. If you reviewed the video tapes, you would THINK you saw someone tasting something, but up close, you see a spoon go over the edge of the pot. I could not truely verify that something was actually on that spoon. She holds the spoon up to a barely protruding tongue tip and lets one molecule of the essence of what may or may not be on that spoon eventually waft over to the outermost cell on her tongue. I assume this procedure is so that -in case there is radioactive ebola virus in "my" sauce, she will have time to cut the end of her tongue off in time to save "salty" and "bitter"- even though ice-cream will be a thing of the past.
So, "my" sauce is entering her realm of conciousness by hacking away at vines and deep, crowded, mental vegetation. She appears to be focusing on a point about 10 to 12 inches in front of her face...
"Dammit. I like yours better. In fact- it's good."
I'm thinking, "All the way to the moon, Alice..."
And here I sit typing instead of filling out another on-line application.
Any cooks out there with some inspiration for me? I need a couple of simple, cheap recipe ideas. I'd even consider tofu- I have no clue what to do with that stuff.