Living matters: Hubby’s cooking efforts have yet to produce a meal

Of late, the husband has been into cooking.

This is more than a little remarkable. After all, while the husband enjoys consuming food, he has rarely prepared it — that is, aside from barbecued steak, barbecued chicken, barbecued ribs, barbecued sausage and barbecued whatever other kind of meat he can get his hands on.

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It was a few weeks ago when the husband informed me, quite out of the blue, that he was going to get into cooking.

Each of us, he said, would be responsible for three dinners a week. I am not sure what we were to do on the remaining day, but I assume he was thinking we would either order Chinese or fast that day.

He would, he continued, specialize in fish and Mediterranean cooking.

He had given this a lot of thought.

“OK,” I said. “So what does that look like?”

“That means I need to do some research,” he said.

Thus, it began.

He went online. He searched for recipes for snapper and salmon and sole.

“Oh,” I’d hear him say. “This one looks good. And so does this one. And this one too.”

He ran off his recipes and kept them in a pile on his desk.

“I’m going to the stationery store,” he said, soon after the online recipe search had started.

“Outta pens?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I need some binders and paper and tape so that I can organize my recipes. You know, for my cooking thing.”

“Right,” I said. I hauled a tub of spaghetti sauce out of the freezer. There was enough for two nights, which was a good thing.

A couple of days later, the husband informed me he needed to go to the book store.

“In need of a good novel?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m on the hunt for a good Mediterranean cookbook, you know.”

“I know,” I jumped in. “For your cooking thing.”

The husband returned with a colourful Mediterranean cookbook. He bought three more online.

So far, I reckon the husband has devoted about 120 hours to his cooking thing and likely spent upwards of $300. Never mind that not a single penny has gone to a piece of sole or a basket of baby tomatoes.

These things take time, I suppose.

Not sure when the husband will pull out a pan. He’s too busy doing his research.

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