Tag Archives: recipe

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I have often told my husband that if I go before him, I already know what his last words to me will be. He will lean tenderly over my bed and whisper in my ear, “What did you have planned for supper?”

It was his misfortune to marry a woman who not only hates to cook, but hates the effort it takes to plan meals as well. I have never been one of those organized people who puts down a menu for the following week and then shops at the grocery store accordingly.

When it comes to imagination in meal planning and cooking, it’s even worse. Once, in the era when my children were still at home, my daughter said to me, “I will be home late after practice tonight, so don’t start the meatloaf too soon.”

I was so impressed, “How did you know I was planning meatloaf for supper?”

“It’s Tuesday,” came the jaded reply, “we always have meatloaf on Tuesday.”

I try—I really do. Not so long ago, instead of having our usual ‘mashed potatoes and chicken Friday’, I researched new ways to fix the potatoes. They had a recipe for potato pancakes, so I thought I’d try it.

It didn’t go well. One of the few things Roy looks forward to is good mashed potatoes and those pancakes looked like unstable marshmallows drowning in grease. He ate them without comment, because, as I’ve mentioned before, he doesn’t want the job of cooking, and I am one good complaint away from resigning the head chef job around here. The pay is lousy anyway.

When it comes to planning meals, he’s not very helpful either. “I have no idea what to fix for supper tonight,” I complained the other day. “Give me some thoughts.” Now, I should mention that when I ask for help with menu planning, I’m usually hoping for a suggestion that we eat out.

“Well, tonight is Monday,” he answered. “Don’t we usually have stir fry on Mondays?”

“But that’s a lot of work,” I hinted. “Can’t you think of anything else?”

“Then do what you always do when you don’t want to cook, open a can of something,” he suggested.

In the end, he got tuna and some bread that wasn’t too dry. My first choice had been a can of pumpkin mixed with some canned dog food, so really, he came out better in the long run.

But truly, the worst job in cooking is trying to figure out a meal. I read somewhere the approximate average number of meals planned and cooked in the American home over a span of 20 years. I don’t remember the exact number because when I read it, I blacked out and lost my memories for that moment, but I can honestly say that this is a figure I never want to learn or think about!

It makes me think of that commercial where a woman is walking down the street, going about her daily business and everything and everyone is asking her, “What’s for dinner?” In the end, she concludes by making some culinary delight with a can of mushroom soup and a half of a left-over pork chop (or something like that), so the talking garden gnome asking for her dinner plans is not the only fantasy in the commercial. I do have a bit of sympathy for the question, however.

When Roy and I meet at the end of the day, my question to him is usually, “How was your day?” His question for me is always, “What did you have in mind for supper?”

I can see that this rumination is not really solving my problem because I will never learn to like planning meals any better than I like to cook them. However, if, on my deathbed, Roy chooses to ask me what I was planning for supper, I may leave this world with words on my lips that will not get me into heaven!

Jackie Wells-Fauth

One of my oldest friends in the world (according to years together, not age) is also my cousin Melody. Now if you saw us together, some things might indicate that we are related, but in one very important respect, we are very different! She is a fantastic cook and I can barely boil the proverbial water.

We live rather far apart and that is a good thing from the point of view of my waistline. However, when I read about, hear about and even see the food she creates, I gain five or six pounds on the spot! I’m jealous of her ability and I’d also like to camp out at her dining room table!

I cannot, under any circumstances, understand how she could be such a fantastic cook, (and be related) and even worse, I think she really enjoys cooking. Speaking as a woman who met her husband because he was one of the firemen who showed up to put out her supper one night, I can’t say I have ever excelled at, or enjoyed cooking.

The biggest problem, however, is that I really like eating. In a recent post, Melody talked about the various things she has done in her creative kitchen, changing up recipes and even inventing her own cuisine. This is how I know that one of us was adopted, because it’s a big day at my house if I was able to follow the instructions on the back of the mac and cheese box! Any changing up in my recipes is unintentional and indigestible!

I am constantly reading about cooks, like Melody, who discover “accidentally” that something works brilliantly in their cooking routine, and they now use that procedure in everything they make. In my cooking endeavors, I accidentally discovered that if you throw water on a grease fire, it gets bigger. I won’t be using that procedure again anytime soon!

Some women don’t cook at all because their husbands enjoy it so much. Roy doesn’t enjoy cooking either, but he has started doing all the grilling because he discovered that it is possible to eat a steak that has not been charred beyond all identification, if you just do it right. And before you accuse me, I can assure you that I did not deliberately burn things on the grill to get Roy to take over. Before I met him, I didn’t realize there was a degree of cooking things on the grill that didn’t require a fire extinguisher nearby! Could that be one of those procedures that I “accidentally” discovered?

Even the simplest rules to cooking are beyond me. For instance, how do you get the meatloaf in the oven and the potatoes on top of the stove to get done at the same time? We are either eating meatloaf that is raw in the center or potatoes so crunchy they could chip a tooth!

Roy sat down to his evening meal the other night at 5:15. He dished out the potatoes and then looked around for the meat.

“What did you plan to have with these potatoes,” he asked.

“Roast,” I answered.

“Where is it?” he said, munching on potatoes, “By the way, scorched is my favorite way to have potatoes.”

“Okay, Mr. Smart Guy, I’ll tell you where the roast is,” I was irritated by then, “I forgot to thaw it out and so it’s still in the oven. I just got it in 20 minutes ago, so I figure it will be ready about midnight. But I didn’t want the potatoes to get cold.”

“If you ask me, letting them get cold might be the kindest thing you could do,” he said, abandoning his plate. “Wake me up when the roast is done.”

I’d tell him to go to Melody’s house if he doesn’t like my cooking, but I’m afraid he’d do it!