Doing it all wrong


My wife walked into our kitchen and gave me a questioning look, the kind of look every husband knows all too well. I could tell I was in trouble. I had pots and pans scattered across the stove and had made a general mess of the room. 

My wife put down her phone, taking in the scene. On one hand, she was glad to get some help with dinner. On the other hand, she was questioning what in the heck she was thinking when she agreed to the arrangement.

Without a doubt, my wife is the better cook between the two of us and, thanks to a number of reasons, she has done much of the cooking over the years. However, I try to help where I can and, since I had the afternoon free, I had offered to make the night’s dinner. 

As soon as I started getting everything ready, though, I ran into my first bit of trouble. I couldn’t find a particular pan and had to call in the reinforcements for help. With her now in the kitchen, she couldn’t help give me a sideways look at the mess I was creating.

My wife was just about ready to go back to tidying up her desk for the day when I asked whether she preferred that I use olive oil or butter. She gave an answer and suggested I get started on my vegetable. With her fully engaged now, I spit out two additional questions on the recipe that I was following rat-a-tat style.

“So would you prefer I stay?” she asked.

My answer: “Of course.” As much as I try, that’s typically how my cooking goes. I’m willing to try anything, but I usually have a million and one questions.

My wife though could be on to me. “You’re just trying to learn, right?” she said mocking me. She may be onto my schtick, but I do like her company.

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