What Really Happens At Dinner

What Really Happens At Dinner.

October 24, 2010

Some of you may think that Mr. How Sweet helps me in the kitchen.

Well, he does. He leaves.

I wish we were the couple that cooked together in the kitchen, but I would be lying if I said we were. I mean, if I was okay with eating pre-made burgers and eggs for every meal, then we would be.

And I know. I still haven’t provided you evidence that Mr. How Sweet wears shirts with sleeves.

Tonight, I decided to try out chicken piccata for our Sunday dinner. Not only have I never made it, I don’t even think I’ve ever tried it. Remember – I’m not Italian and I don’t really love Italian food. So I got to working. I decided on chicken piccata, whole wheat pasta and whole grain parmesan garlic bread. If you’re wondering where the vegetables are, you must not come ’round these parts much.

I had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. How Sweet wouldn’t love the sauce. His taste buds aren’t that mature. So instead of adding the sauce right on top of the chicken, I poured it into a small bowl and secretly heated him up some red sauce.

Let me tell you… I am wise beyond my years.

Mr. How Sweet walks in, takes one look at the sauce and says, “Oh, is this gravy?”

This is about the time when I started gulping sipping this:

No, you dope. It isn’t gravy. Why would I plate some beautiful chicken and lemon slices only to pour gravy on top of it? And really, when did you ever see gravy and lemon together?!

Don’t worry… that was just my stream of consciousness. I rarely speak my mind. Thank goodness. I follow whichever commandment that says “respect thy husband.” Sometimes.

So what does Mr. How Sweet do? He takes the spoon that is in the piccata sauce and slurps a spoonful into his mouth, then lays the spoon back down in the sauce. To my real life friends: don’t worry, I promise I watch him around the food when we have you over.

He declares the sauce “too lemony.” He doesn’t think it will go with “his spaghetti.” FYI, I made linguine.

So I wave my magic wand and the bowl of red sauce appears for my toddler husband. He proceeds to dump red sauce all over his chicken and linguine. He even dips his garlic bread in red sauce.

I made myself a nice plate of the meal that I actually prepared.

So I had chicken piccata for dinner. I don’t know what exactly Mr. How Sweet had, besides calling it chicken and linguine smothered in red sauce. This is how most meals go at our house, my friends. I wish I could tell you I was exaggerating. But unfortunately… this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Crumbs