As some of you may know, one of my larger challenges since I embarked upon the wife life has been cooking. Or figuring out how to cook. Or, more precisely, even remembering that dinner is coming AGAIN tonight and we're probably going to want something to eat.
The truth is, I spent the first three decades of my life doing very little that involved the combination of food and heat. Sure, I learned to whip up mac & cheese from both Kraft (everyday) or Velveeta (for special occasions), and my baloney sandwiches are the stuff that lunchtime dreams are made of. But my Italian husband was raised on meals that came from INSIDE the oven, a place I rarely ventured near. Today, I decided that things were going to be different--I was going to go all out and whip up a gourmet meal for my man.
Dreaming of America's Next Top Chef, I boldly bypassed the potatoes, the rice, the pasta...even the mac & cheese...and pulled out a box of couscous to accompany our basic steak dinner. It sounded so exotic! Now, I'd never made couscous. I'd never even eaten it. I watched my four year old niece wrestle it down once this summer ("I don't think I like cooth cooth," she admitted sadly as she pushed the bits of grain around the bowl). But it came in the same type of box as the rice pilaf I know and love; I figured, "How bad could it be?"
Well. Hmm. Here's the thing: It tasted like the little rocks at the bottom of a fish tank might taste if heated and covered with salt and butter. And it went EVERYWHERE. Under our plates, on the rug, in my hair...honestly, they should sell this stuff in the pet section of the grocery store, because without a dog I can't imagine how you'd clean it up. We were tempted to lift Kylie right up onto the table and just let her lick up all those tiny grain dots. Guessing that this would unfairly raise her expectations about family dinner etiquette in the future, we instead opted to leave the room for a few minutes. And miraculously (?!?) the table was clean when we returned!
(Don't judge! If it wasn't for THAT DOG, we'd be picking up amber waves of grain until Thanksgiving!)