HBL’s idea of cooking is taking two hours to prep, adding a cup of black pepper, and serving it lukewarm. Also, after serving it up, adding ketchup and hot sauce to his helping.
Right now, he is only entrusted with breakfast, sandwiches, grilling and the drive-thru.
I was in the middle of cooking dinner the other night when I told HBL I needed to take a shower. Sweet as he wants to be, he insisted I let him finish dinner so I could take one before the baby woke up from his nap. Of course, I recognized the sense in doing this, but was torn: should I take a chance and let him try a hand at dinner? Or should I just continue to be grubby until the next day? I chose the former in my musty desperation, but made sure to shower as fast as I could to lessen the damage that might be done (to my stomach).
Midway through my lightening quick shower, HBL opened the door to the bathroom and asked me, “Babe, when you say to ‘brown’ the chicken, do you mean cook it till it’s white or till it’s brown?”
Bless his heart.