After years of cooking family meals, I am having no problem letting my husband cook for me. I won’t deny that my step back from the kitchen began years ago after working as a cafeteria lady. The massive amounts of cooking daily burned me out. This is how I know a chef is not my calling.
One of the many signs and symptoms of being a writer? I dabble. Knowing very little about a lot of things but able to research and uncover information is fun, it doesn’t always mean you become an expert at much but is a handy tool for a writer. That includes cooking.
That meal my hub made me was delicious. Consisting of a twice baked potato we shared, a nice fresh salad and the chop! What a chop, a peppercorn-bourbon marinated grilled chop served covered with a stuffing of toasted bread, garlic, onion and celery sautéed in wine. Hmm, it was good enough to curl my toes. All the while my man was cooking away, my fingers were hitting the keyboard catching up the blog. (Still one blog left to catchup and they will all be on track again.)
Feeding the body to feed the mind so creativity will flourish. Gotta love that man of mine.
Ah! Maybe a nap is now in order.