I’ve shouted from the rooftops about the quality of Velda’s cooking. She is a fabulous cook.
Here is the love of my life celebrating Turkey Day in her own unique style.
But.
There’s a dark side.
Here’s a dialogue over our holiday weekend lunch, faithfully recorded for posterity. And you.
He said: The soup is, uh….
She said: I wish I could taste anything. I’m tired of this gunge. I haven’t been able to taste anything for 4 weeks.
He: Is this the last of this soup?
She: What do you mean? It was frozen.
He: It doesn’t have much texture. It’s like it was reheated.
She: No, it was frozen.
He: Oh. I’m happy for the onions that give it some crunch.
She: It has no meat in it. Do you have any ham?
He: I think so. But the pieces are really, really small.
She: I have no ham.
He: There’s a little piece. And there’s a little one.
She: No ham. But … here’s some chicken skin. How did that get in here?
He: Some what?
She: Chicken skin. See?
He: What are we eating? This isn’t some dog food or something that you froze and forgot about, is it?
She: No, this is ham and beans. I probably started it with some chicken stock.
He: Is it OK to eat?
She: Sure.
He: How did you know what it was? Was it labeled?
She: Well….
He: What?
She: It was labeled “French Bread Crumbs.”
He: WHAT?
She: That’s what the bag said. But it’s ham and beans.
He: Are you sure it’s OK to eat?
She: Of course.
He: So, there was a package labeled “French Bread Crumbs,” but it had ham and bean soup in it, but that soup had chicken skin in it. Is it safe to eat?
She: Sure. Maybe I used chicken stock.
He: Really?
She: Maybe I should label things better.
He: Ya think?
The lunch was filling, and the conversation was lively. That’s all I’ll commit to at this point.
You lived didn’t you? And I didn’t let you starve. I suppose tomorrow’s blog will be about light and fluffy whole wheat pancakes and oxymorons???
I never said they were an oxymoron. Interesting that you’re thinking that, though….
Very clever! I do hope after 38 years of marriage that you’ve learned to understand her conversations!
Alas, the woman is a mystery to me. And so shall it ever be!
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