A Ranting Confession from a Frustrated Cook

I have a confession to make...yesterday I came dangerously close to smacking my husband at the kitchen table. He hurt my feelings in the most insulting of ways. I spent the morning preparing, testing, adjusting spices and ingredients to finally declare my new creation 'superb' and considering myself something of a culinary genius. Go ahead and laugh if you must but this stuff was awesome!!

I proudly set the table for dinner in anticipation of the 'ohhhs' and 'ahhhs' I just knew were coming. He is awesome about showing appreciation for good food and...as I said, this stuff was GOOD. He commented upon arriving home how wonderful the food smelled and did his usual rush around to get ready to eat. I, in my command of serving and presenting (snicker, snicker) laid before him a meal fit for a king. Three bites into the meal, he turned from the king to the jester when he..I can hardly bear to say it even now..he covered up the taste of my fabulous, well planned and prepared meal with southwest spicy mustard!! Yep, before my disbelieving eyes he globed the mustard on his plate and smothered my masterpiece in it with each bite. I was speechless! And you know that is not a common state for me!!! Seriously, I could not speak...words were not allowed to escape my mouth because I could find nothing to say that wasn't incredulously angry, hurt and bewildered! I just wanted to smack him and smack him till it hurt!

I do believe he noticed the distinct chill in the air at the table and the lack of normal, casual dinner-table talk but I think he was pretty clueless about the horror I was feeling over the mustard. His defense, should he ever realize he needed one...(and don't you think he did?)...was that he did taste it first before he used the mustard, the wildly spicy, overbearing, and taste hiding, hot albeit sweet conglomeration! I know this would be his defense because it is the same one he uses when he disguises my food under the mile high layers of ketchup. (Can you hear the low grumbling growl still rumbling deep inside my being?) He might as well spit on my food, it could not have been more offensive.

I really work at serving him healthy, good quality, great tasting food. I give it much thought and planning, I invest myself in most that I serve him. I say 'most' only because sometimes he request something generic and boring. I CAN do generic and boring but not often! What he does not take into consideration is the effort and trouble I take to present him with this food. His unsophisticated palate does not notice the subtleties of spice combination or the blending of one flavor enhancing another. His overriding lust for sugar dominates everything and it makes me crazy! His little eyes spotted the mustard, his brain screamed "SUGAR" and that was all he thought about. My proud moment of culinary accomplishment went down his pie-hole covered in mustard!!   

Thankfully, we needed cat food, so I made an urgent dash to the store to get out and get out quickly! I did not want to see his face, hear his voice or smell the delights I had wasted on the man. I walked around the store until I could breathe normally again. Then I walked some more because I was still emotional about it. Frankly, I walked until I thought things through...over and over again. I tried to rationalize his behavior, make it more palatable (pardon the pun) if you will. I know the issue is all mine and I own it but there is surely a compromise somewhere in this that we both can live with. After 11 years of fighting the ketchup battle, he finally acknowledged that it is the sugar in the ketchup that he likes. I have a witness, so he can no longer deny it. Now, it feels like we are back at square one with the mustard. Prior to smothering my creation, he said he loved it, so I know he wasn't just trying to cover the taste, but come on!!! I've mentioned, in calmer moments, how it bothers me to have my efforts thwarted and nullified by the ketchup. You could throw camouflage paint over the Mona Lisa and say you're just making it better but you are still ruining the original masterpiece!

I walked through Wal-Mart until I was free from explosive anger, free to actually allow myself to love the man without the smacking and free enough to buy him a snack...a sweet snack (is there any other kind, he would ask). He's like a kid, he waits for me to come back in anticipation that I brought him a treat! No kidding, every time. As I walked in the back door he was saying he tried to call me but realized I left my phone at home (he thought that was an oversight, it was not!). He said he had been sending me mental messages and asked if I got them...he wanted me to bring ice cream home. I told him I did not bring ice bream but I did bring flavored yogurt (which he later said he did not like the taste of, I thought of suggesting he cover it in mustard...) and an Almond Joy bar. He devoured the yogurt instantly and washed it down with the Almond Joy.

Tonight's menu....a slab of bologna &  stale bread covered in ketchup and mustard. He'll be in @#%$*^$ heaven. Sad commentary, that.****sigh****