Food Means I Love You

The hubs returned from his latest, uh, business trip yesterday.

I wanted to cook up a delicious meal to celebrate, because food is how I say “I love you.” Also I thought that whipping up a meal would help soften the transition a bit.

Since he left in July (hardly a couple of weeks after we moved into our new place), all of our stuff from Omaha arrived, our wobbly little drooly baby started walking and talking and eating lots and lots of real food, and the sun started setting realllly early. On top of all of that, he’s going to have to relearn how to drive on the left side of the road. At least a home cooked dinner served on our actual plates would feel a little bit like life back in Omaha.

Apparently I needed help with my transition to Cooking a Real Meal Instead of Just Roasting Vegetables for Dinner.

Let me start by saying I did bake a successful pie, thanks to pre-made pie crust. Perhaps I should have stopped there. Maybe I should have stopped before that, at the store, when the fish called for in the recipe wasn’t available. But no. Something inside me said, “Go for it. You’re a good cook! Substitute some other white fish and OWN it, girl.”

I roasted red peppers over the open flame of my gas stove (er, hob). A stem caught fire.

Cumin was to be toasted in a pan. It burnt and smoked.

The chardonnay I bought for the recipe was actually a cabernet. It’s still grapes, right?

The butter for frying the fish burnt, and the hazelnut crust came out a ~little~ black.

With various Indian restaurant menus on call and a secret expectation that we would just eat the whole pie and pint of Haagen Dazs vanilla ice cream for dinner, I served up the meal.

Maybe it was the good company (or perhaps the wine), but it actually didn’t turn out too bad.

Fortunately I dirtied enough dishes in preparing the meal to really prove my husband how much I love him (four pots and a food processor in the sink much), whether or not it was the best meal I’ve ever cooked. Tonight’s butternut squash chili fared better.

Though maybe I should shift the medium; cookies last for more than a day.

2 thoughts on “Food Means I Love You

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