Too many cooks

When Jeremy and I first got married, one of the tension points was what we were going to cook for dinner.  This is because I had entered our union with the idea that this would be my area and I would have a husband who swooned over my cooking, just like everyone else had while I was in highschool and college.  I had all of my recipies handed down from my grandma and mom.  We were given a recipe book filled with favorite recipies from friends and family.  I. was. set.

Then two things happened over and over.
1) I was cooking too much so we had a lot of left overs.
2) Jeremy never ate ANY leftovers and was constantly trying to correct my cooking.

I remember breaking down into tears as we went through recipe books.  He didn't like ANY of the recipies I had in my stash.  I labeled him a 'picky eater'.  I fumed.  I was hurt.  This was not turning out how I'd imagined.

When Jeremy cooked, it was different.  He made things without mixing them.  By that I mean, there were no casseroles.  I thought it odd, but soon realized that his chicken was so moist and succulent that it didn't need gravy-- a totally new concept for me.  He introduced me to green beans (previously I had to gag them down while they were burried in mashed potatoes sandwhiched in a dinner roll).  Soon I realized that I had it all wrong- Jeremy liked to cook and was *gag* better than me.  Why was I making such a big deal out of this fact? 

After Samantha was born and I was on my no dairy/soy/beef/chocolate/tomato diet, being in the kitchen brought me to tears. 

And so Jeremy's uncontested reign of the kitchen began.

Over the years his cooking has become legendary.  All of my family loves to eat his food.  Plus he's teaching everyone how to cook.  Meat is cooked without drying it out.  Canned vegetables with cheese have been replaced with fresh cooked in olive oil.  We haven't bought a can of "cream of _____" in over 5 years because of a thing called a "rue".  He carefully saves his bacon grease to use as flavoring for his hashbrowns and soups.  And he does this every day after he comes home from work.

Now, before you get to jealous and think I'm so spoiled that I no longer merit the title "Mom", he's had to learn a few things too- such as planning ahead.  One simply cannot have dinner ready before bed-time when one comes home and tries to thaw out a frozen chicken at 5pm.  And as much as Samantha and I love his chicken, it's nice to have variety too :) 

So where am I going with this?  Well, there are two areas that I still maintain in the kitchen.  Baking is the first. I've been on the hunt for the perfect chocolate chip cookie (who knew, it had it's own website all along).  Jeremy does swoon over my cookies.  Baking is simply not something he can do as he struggles with scoffs at things like recipies and measuring devices.  And so my reign of the baking remains.

 The second area is scrambled eggs.  I currently hold the crown for scrambled eggs.  All I use is eggs and cheese.  That's it.  And what's even funnier is that Jeremy is the one who taught me how to tell when eggs are cooked right.  It's just that his knowledge is all theory and what he's watched Alton Brown do.  He has yet been able to make them without a puddle of liquid sitting below them.  He gets so frustrated and I just smile. 

I smile because it's not a cooking issue, it's a listening issue.

Week 1 attempt:
Jeremy: How do you make the eggs?  Just eggs and cheese and put the pan on high?
Me: No, I just make sure the pan is hot.  And I don't stir them.  I just let them sit like an omelete and scramble them right before I take them off.

Sam calls me to come eat "dinner" (breakfast is just too hard to say)
As we sit down he sets the plate of eggs down with a frown and grumble.  The eggs are swimming in their juices.

Jeremy:  I did it just like you told me.  Get the pan as hot as possible and let them cook through.
Me: No, I said until it's hot.  I use medium heat.
Jeremy: grumble grumble. 

Week 2 attempt
Sam calls me to come eat dinner.
We all sit down and Jeremy sets the plate of eggs down with a frown and grumble. The eggs are swimming in their juices.

Jeremy: I just don't understand it.  I did it just like you said you do it. 
Me: and how is that?
Jeremy:  Eggs and cheese.  Lots of cheese, nothing else.  And get the pan as blazing hot as possible.


And so lives my reign for the best scrammbled eggs in the family.  My guess is it will be a long one.