Now that we are married, I find myself struggling with the gravity of it all and what it means to be married. Over the weekend, while "we" were cooking - by which I mean I was cooking and he was breathing down my neck and nagging me and taking up space in the kitchen, I realized something. We will have this fight that we have semi-regularly, and we will be angry - but we will not leave. We're both going to stay. I'm not going to get a divorce over something as silly as how I stack the dish drainer.
So we're in it. So then I realized that means I might as well try. Since I'm not going anywhere, and neither is he, I might as well try to empty the draining rack and put things away before doing the next load of dishes. (Yes, I usually just load wet dishes on top of dry dishes until something falls out and I admit defeat; or until he puts the dishes away.) I might as well try to clean as I cook, rather than making a big giant mess. I might as well try to use fewer pots and utensils as I cook. I might as well try to make sure the kitchen doesn't look like a war zone when he comes home from work. (And while we're on it, I might as well try to get a job because I suck at being a housewife.)
I promised more pictures and recipes, while I wax philosophic about marriage, so here is a recipe for homemade croutons (made with homemade bread).
You will need a loaf or so of bread, about a quarter cup of olive oil, some garlic powder, salt, italian seasonings, and an oven at 400 degrees.
Cut the bread into cubes. Put them in a bowl. Mix the olive oil, garlic powder, salt, and seasonings together. Pour over cubes, then stir cubes until they are mostly well coated. Spread on a pan (coat with foil if you really want to avoid cleanup), and then bake for 15-20 minutes at 400 degrees.
Delicious and cheap, and an excellent use of a loaf of bread that I wasn't a huge fan of. We probably won't buy croutons again.
I'm so happy you are writing marriage & cooking! Woo Hoo!
ReplyDeleteI was thinking a similar thought the other day. My hubs hates how I load the dishwasher. He secretly (and some days not so secretly) refills the entire load. I can't stand the collection of dirty socks he accumulates. I have made an effort in my dishwasher loading and he in the socks, but I reason that if these are the things that nag our relationship, I am okay with silently picking up his sock pile and toting them to the laundry room. I know people that have far worse relationship problems.