Lately my hubby has been on this whole “let’s try new recipes” thing. I’m fine with this, because any night that he’s cooking is one less night that I have to try to either cobble something together or hit the drive through.
Let’s get something straight – I can cook. I’m just currently in a phase where I choose not to. I used to cook a lot – think hand-stuffed manicotti with homemade meat sauce, garlic seasoned pastry pockets stuffed with four types of mushrooms, homemade eggrolls with (also) homemade fried rice. There was no end to my culinary wizardry, nor to the time I was willing to expend to put an elegant and delicious dinner on the table. Now? Not so much. I don’t know what has changed, but right now I just can’t work up the enthusiasm for spending hours in the kitchen.
So that brings us to now. A few months ago, Perry decided that twice a week he would whip up something inventive from one of his many, many cookbooks that up until this point have mostly gone unused. Most of the time, the things he comes up with are pretty good. There was a yummy mushroom soup a couple weeks ago that I could easily have eaten nightly, for example. Also several interesting salads, and various concoctions of cheese and meat that have been pretty palatable.
Last night, Perry took things a bit too far. He prepared duck. Duck. Quack quack. Duck. Now, I do the shopping, and so I purchased said duck. So it’s not like he sprung it on me. I knew it was coming. But yet when it was actually time to eat it, I honestly couldn’t get the image of the little feathered dudes down the street in the pond out of my head. I did not enjoy the duck. I plan to abstain from duck in the future. I may even have to go take a loaf of bread to the pond as penance.
Coming up this week, we have lamb. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that, but I think I feel a little bit better about it than duck. At least I don’t drive by the little lambs every single day when I leave my neighborhood. Not sure what little woodland creatures will be on the menu next week, but if it comes down to it, I might have to take up cooking again. Maybe that’s all part of his plan.