In my single years, it never occurred to me how involved the simple task of cooking a meal could be in marriage. But perhaps that's because I had yet to meet my out-of-the-box thinking, joy-is-in-the-journey husband, Ted. It didn't take long for me to discover that when it came to dinner time -- or breakfast or lunch for that matter -- his interests didn't solely lie in the finished product. Ted wasn't one of those meat and potato guys who was satisfied being offered a sirloin and some baby reds at the end of a long day of work. Sure, he appreciated it, but he wanted more.
Now when I say "more," I'm not talking about a side of green bean casserole and some pecan pie. Though, of course, he'd eagerly welcome those additions.
You see, Ted cared about the process that went into making the dish. He wasn't about to be confined to merely eating it. This man wanted to hear a detailed list of the ingredients and was always willing to help chop, dice, and slice our way to a perfect mirepoix. When it came to whisks, slotted spoons, and spatulas, he enjoyed digging through our messy utensil drawer to help me find just the right "tool" for a particular cooking method. And if boiling water was involved, well, he even had tips for me on how to do that more efficiently.
Overall, I loved his interest and participation. After all, wasn't this what marriage was all about: cooperation and teamwork in everyday life?
Had it simply been a matter of slotted spoons and boiling water recommendations, I think we'd have gotten along splendidly in the kitchen. But it wasn't. Here's where it got dicey. While I clung tightly to recipes, Ted loved to explore the limits of culinary creativity.
[Read the rest of the article at iBelieve.com.]