My husband, the chef

When we first started dating, I would be driving home from work and he would call. “Do you want to go to dinner,” he would say? “Yes” I would say, smiling. This lasted for a while. Then one day, he called and said, “I’m cooking dinner, you have to come over.” When I got there, I was impressed. He was making mashed potatoes, and Brussels sprouts, and pork chops, on a weeknight! I had never had a Brussels sprouts before, but I loved them! Growing up we only had mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving – and they were somewhat lumpy. His were smooth, and creamy, and perfect.

When we were first married, on a Saturday, I would say, “I’m going to the grocery store.” “I’m coming too,” he would say. He wasn’t just coming to keep me company; he wanted to be involved with the food selection.

When it was time to cook dinner, he would help. We would cook together. He had a few recipes his mom had written for him, some of his favorites. He would cook these foods for me. Some I had never had before. Some I never knew how to make before, and had only eaten in restaurants.

This was only the beginning of our culinary adventures. Last Christmas, I gave him a cookbook. He likes cookbooks, and can be found looking through or reading them sometimes. He does this with concentration, tasting the food in his mind. When he opened the cookbook that Christmas, he was excited. That night he brought it up to bed with him, and read it there. That winter, he tried some of the gourmet recipes from the cookbook. He shopped for the special ingredients, and made things with delicate sauces, and exotic spices. He made things that took two active hours to cook, stirring, adding ingredients, and gently whisking. These special Sunday dinners we ate in the dining room, with a white tablecloth, and cloth napkins.

A couple times, he wanted to try special crock-pot dinners on weeknights. These were more work than my usual Tuesday or Wednesday night meat, starch and vegetable dinners, so he bought the ingredients, and set out all the spices for me in the morning. He went over the recipes with me, just to be sure I knew his variations before he left for work.

I like his cooking, and I like to copy the things he cooks. Once he’s made something a few times, I can usually make it next time. But he does something special in his cooking, and he can invent recipes. He enjoys making extraordinary creations, and experimenting with ingredients, and techniques. I like to follow set recipes – usually simple ones with not too many ingredients. He can look at a spice jar, and tell you 5 other things to combine with it - and how it will taste when it’s done.

He knows how to throw dough up in the air, and catch it again; and he does it with style. When making a pumpkin pie, or meatballs, he will call the kids in to help. He will let them mix, and pour, and add ingredients. He will set up the counter like a cooking show, with little containers for each spice so they can pour them in the bowl one at a time. He will make sure they smell each spice before it is added.

I am learning from this. I try to be patient with the kids, and let them help me when I cook. I measure out the water and let them pour. But secretly, I want to cook alone. I want the kids to be playing happily while I cook peacefully, undisturbed, with no interruptions. Cooking is not always a choice for me; I have to do it every day to feed hungry kids. But for him, it’s a love, it’s joy, it’s art.