“Is there dressing on this salad?”
“Yes, lemon-infused olive oil, white wine vinegar, and dash of Dijon. You know, my lazy mustard vinaigrette.”
“Well, I don’t see it.”
“Taste it. Trust me, it’s there. I dressed the salad. Really, I did.”
“I prefer bottled dressing. The creamy stuff.”
“Okay, it’s in the fridge you can add that, too, if you like.”
Yes, this was a recent dialogue at my dinner table. No, it wasn’t one of my children. I have no children. I have a husband who, on any given day, either enjoys my cooking or rejects it altogether. Yes, I’m a culinary nutritionist and I love to cook but I have to tell you, my kitchen experience is anything but Martha Stewart*ish. One day my beloved is asking me to make one of my gorgeous green salads for dinner (that’s the one place we generally intersect at the table) and the next day he is suggesting that I’m trying to ‘control’ what he eats by dressing the salad with oil and vinegar. Seriously, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.
It’s a mystery. It’s also my reality.
Here’s the thing. As much as I would love it if my husband swooned over my cooking, I have to resign myself to the fact that I did not marry a swooner. I married a man with Irish roots (potatoes, please!) and a VERY different palate. I roast a chicken from a local farm. He picks up Popeyes and pot pies. I make a pot of homemade soup. (Grandma’s soup, no less.) He picks up a can of Campbells. I make a loaf of homemade IRISH soda bread. He picks up a loaf of raisin bread from Giant. It’s pretty comical, really.
I want to say this is easy, but really? It’s not. When my husband rejects a meal I’ve labored over, EVERY button is pushed. I take it personally. I feel diminished. Sometimes I even wish I had married a swooner. It takes every resource I have to become a compassionate AND dispassionate observer, to say to myself, “This is interesting, so interesting, AND, it has nothing to do with me or with my cooking.”
So when your husband
or your wife
or your partner
or your children
reject the meals you so lovingly prepare, take a deep breath, honor the buttons that get pushed, feel all the feelings that arise. By all means don’t stuff them, they’re real. And then, feed yourself.
Exquisitely.
You’re worth it.
Simple Green Salad with Lazy Mustard Vinaigrette
(from the sprinkle, splash, swirl & savor™ collection)
crunchy Romaine, butter lettuce, or spring mix
really good extra virgin olive oil
white wine vinegar or fresh lemon juice
dried oregano
Dijon mustard
freshly ground pepper
sea salt
Rinse and spin lettuce leaves. Chop them or break them apart, your choice. Add a generous swirl of olive oil. Don’t be stingy here, this is a ‘good’ fat. Add a splash of vinegar, a sprinkle of sea salt, some freshly ground pepper and dried oregano to taste. Then, add a teaspoon or two of creamy Dijon mustard and toss. Taste your salad to see if it needs more mustard. Let the salad sit for about ten minutes so that the flavors mingle and the lettuce breaks down a bit. Enjoy.
15 thoughts on “Not Martha Stewart”
Oh, Sue Ann, how I adore your marriage stories. This is it, right? So real. So true. Every time I read one I feel comforted. I feel linked together as women, as wives, as humans, as people figuring out every single day how to live and love together.
And then I wish you lived around the corner so I could run over and delight my senses with your cooking and swoon. I would swoon, swoon, swoon. You know it. xo
Yes, Juli, yes: “figuring out every single day how to live and love together.” So much truth in these words. And heart. And oh how I wished we lived closer, too, to swoon and swoon some more. xxoo
My dear sister You could fix me dinner anytime and I would swoon and so would your brother-in-love. We admire your heart and creativity in the kitchen!
Mj
Yes, YOU got the swooner. I love that, I do! Looking forward to our next shared meal. I need a good dose of swooning. LOL
Hi
oh how I wish you were close too…I would so enjoy cooking and eating with you! You are a beautiful person and insightful. I totally get your buttons and yet it has nothing to do with us….the problem is our reaction…but it still hurts
love to you
Katie, it thrills me to no end that you have embraced so many culinary adventures in your kitchen: from quinoa to green smoothies. I will never forget the day we pulled up for a family gathering and Chip greeted me at the door telling me how good your kitchen smelled when you were playing with some of the recipes from one of my programs and I smiled to myself thinking, yes, a swooner. xxoo
I sure do miss John … who adds such spice of levity. And you, of course!
And we miss you! xxoo
Ahh… this is probably how my husband feels when I don´t swoon over his cooking. Which sometimes happens. He always asks for an honest opinion and he is not very fond of the answer if it is not what he had anticipated to hear…Forever grateful for your insights Sue Ann! Love you dearly from the other side of the Atlantic! xoxo
Carina, thank YOU, love, for the perspective. It’s not easy being the cook, nor is it easy being the recipient of cooking that doesn’t necessarily please your palate. Ha, ha, love that. #wakeupcall
I’m realizing that my hubby does swoon over my meals……. eventually. It sometimes takes a few tries for him to like a meal. and for the more traditional meals I make him…. meatloaf, lasagna, pasta bolognese, those meals he swoons. And like you and your hunny, he and I have different palates, and I have come to an acceptance (most of the time) that my adventurous meals are for me to swoon over myself. Come to think of it……. it’ll be a good idea to have some girlfriends or neighbors over to enjoy those adventurous meals that my hubby would rather not try. Thank you for sharing a part of your family meal conversations with us. I enjoy hearing your dinner time stories =)
Thank YOU, Shirley. I like the idea of cooking some of the more adventurous meals for guests. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the ‘need to feed.’ I suspect, for me, it is very much connected to both the need to give and receive love (and in my family food = love) and the the very basic, almost primal need to be appreciated. I am also reminded of all the things my husband does around the house that do not get a swoon, like yard work for example. Perhaps I need to look at that mirror and show HIM some appreciation! Thank you for reading and responding to this post. It’s a great conversation.
I think food is so personal, it touches us right where we began, at our roots. As a person from a different culture I have had to listen to many comments (not directed at me but as a generalisation) about “ethnic cooking”. For example garlic or chillis in food etc….I have therefore become a bit intolerant of intolerance so I feel for you Sue Ann. Mind you I also understand his side as your palate like everything else needs educating. Unfortunately most people don’t know how to change their habits unless it becomes a problem for their health.What I can say to you is keep plugging your good stuff eventually he will learn. They say if you have 10 tries at something you will begin to like it. He’s still at the table! 🙂 Here’s an interesting article…
http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2013/feb/26/healthy-food-train-yourself-like-it
I’ve just read your gentle approach comment and I like that too.You see my husband and i are both open to each others’ foods so I guess I don’t have that experience to draw upon….meeting in the middle can maybe be something of a challenge but fun as well.
Thank you, Dawne. I look forward to reading that article. I remind myself often that our palates are very different and I stay pretty close to my Mediterranean roots. If the tables were turned (pun intended) and he was cooking potatoes every night I would most likely be hitting the salad bar at Whole Foods, too. xxoo