Wifeyteria

It never dawned on us until one typical afternoon, hubby called me at work like he usually does to ask what I was making for dinner.  His co-worker blurted out, "You're talking about food again!!!"

Okay, so here’s the usual scenario:

            Hub:                What’s for dinner?

            Wifey:            (thinking) Uhmm…I’m making Afritada tonight.

            Hub:                No, I don’t feel like having Afritada tonight

Wifey:            How about Adobo? Or Sinigang?

Hub:                We had Sinigang last week!

Wifey:            Uhm…Caldereta? Kare-kare?

Hub:                You’ve been making so much Filipino stuff lately.

Wifey:            Sukiyaki?

Hub:               Neh.

Wifey:           Okay, I’ll make baked Cajun Salmon fillets, served on a bed of greens.

Hub:                I don’t feel like eating fish.

Wifey:            Uhm…my stuffed Crimini mushrooms with angel hair pasta and marinara sauce?

Hub:                Nope.

Wifey:            (ah yes! the magic word…) You want Fried Chicken!

Uh-oh wifey realizes she doesn’t have enough chicken left in the freezer…

Wifey:            Ooops! (thinking fast) How about Corned Beef…uh…er…uhm…Canned Tuna? Top Ramen Instant noodles? Uh...SPAM? @#$@!#*(&*!!!

            That’s how it usually goes.  If for 50% of the households, wives resort to microwaveable food or husbands buy food-to-go, in our case my hubby ORDERS ……from me.  Like I’m a 24-hr restaurant or cafeteria of some sort.  It’s kind of nice, since we both love genuinely hot home-cooked meals and I enjoy the thought of knowing in my heart that I know how to cook even if some tactless peeps once thought I won’t survive in America because I can’t (still an issue with me, isn’t it?)  For the record, I can cook, I do cook, and boy how I love it!  Hubby thinks I’m such a good chef.  But hear this: he thinks he’s an excellent food critic! (“maybe next time add a little more paprika…or marinate this in spiced olive oil longer yada yada yada… ”) When actually, he only has one seasonful of TV training from Top Chef, Iron Chef America  and “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” tucked under his belt, plus bits and pieces of Anthony Bourdain’s thoughts in No Reservations. Foodie, baby!

I made my usual and personal version of Shepherd’s Pie two nights ago (thanks to cousin Joy for the original recipe). This time though, I decided to shift from ground beef (read: killer red meat) to ground turkey --being the health-freak wannabe that I am at this phase in my life. A dash more of chili powder I hoped would mask its true identity and roll through my dear foodie’s tongue without an issue.  The Shepherd’s pie didn’t make it to the pie form, by the way. Hubby came home famished from a hard day’s work (plus a little extra hours spent for my “new-old” car…which I still don't have a name for), dove into the pot of my newly cooked secret meat and dumped a shovelful of it on top of his steamy rice (that’s how people get fat, you know!)  After trying it, he exclaimed with theatrical gusto, “Oh this is soooooo good. I love beef very very much! Ohhhhh it’s hella good”. Hahahahaha.  There you go.  Foodie my *bleep*.   In my Wifeyteria, the Special of the Day isn’t always what the menu board says it is.  You’ll never know what you’re sinking your teeth into --literally.

I'm making beefsteak (lemon, onions and soy sauce) out of rock cod fillets tonight.  Boy I can be evil, really evil!  With a cause though. *wink*