My wife and I have never operated well together in a kitchen. She is a sweet
good natured woman but a klutz in the kitchen. She lacks the knack of
timing multiple dishes on the go and has a tendency to create chaos. I
thought that we had an understanding about only one of us being allowed in
the kitchen at a time to prepare a meal, ever since the time I was doing a
roast and went to start the potatoes and found out she had turned on the
beans and they were almost done. Last night was the last straw.

We had her cousin over for dinner and I had done all the shopping and
planned the menu. Before he arrived she had asked who was doing dinner, and
I said that I would do it. She done a batch of choux pastry and made some
chocolate icing for éclairs. Since she had a luncheon to go to, I cleaned
the place up, got out the good dishes, silverware and crystal and set the
table. When she got home I whipped the cream, filled the éclairs and iced
them. I was going to drape come plastic wrap over the plate and stick them
in the fridge. She decided that was not good enough and took it upon herself
to stick toothpicks in them to tent the wrap so the icing would not get
smeared. Fair enough, but while getting the toothpicks out she spilled the
entire box of them onto the platter with the éclairs. As if we weren't busy
enough with last minute preparations, I now had to clean up a whole box of
toothpicks.

After having a drink with our guest, I headed into the kitchen to cook the
pasta course. The plan was to boil some angel hair pasta, and while it was
cooking, I started to fry up some garlic, ginger, red peppers, cherry
tomatoes and shrimp with cilantro. They came into the kitchen to keep me
company. She took it upon herself to put away my Tupperware bin with the
pasta in it. While putting it away she knocked a tub full of Farfali off the
shelf and it ended up all over the floor. We weren't even using Farfali, but
now I had a pound of it all over the floor that needed to be cleaned up.

The shrimp pasta turned out very well. Then it was time to grill some
steaks. I went out to the patio to light the BBQ and warm it up, then back
in and put a pot of water in to cook asparagus. My plan was to cook the
steaks and then put the asparagus while the steaks rested. On the way out
to do the steaks she asked me when I wanted her to put the asparagus on. I
told her that I would do it when I got back with the steaks, which I thought
would take 10 minutes. I was about to give the steaks another 2 minute when
she opened the door and asked if everything was okay because I had been 10
minutes and the asparagus was ready.

Her story is that she thought I wanted the asparagus to be ready in ten
minutes. I distinctly remember telling her I would put it on when I got in,
which I subsequently told her would be in 10 minutes.

So that's it. She is not allowed in the kitchen when I am cooking. Never
again.

In article > ,
"Dave Smith" > wrote:

> My wife and I have never operated well together in a kitchen.

> So that's it. She is not allowed in the kitchen when I am cooking. Never
> again.


Sometimes it works for us. Sometimes it doesn't. Every time I ask her
why the heck she is in the kitchen when I'm trying to cook, she explains
that she wants the company. She usually tries to clean while I try to
cook. It doesn't work well. We have a very small kitchen.

Dan Abel wrote:
> In article > ,
> "Dave Smith" > wrote:
>
>> My wife and I have never operated well together in a kitchen.
>
>> So that's it. She is not allowed in the kitchen when I am cooking. Never
>> again.
>
>
> Sometimes it works for us. Sometimes it doesn't. Every time I ask her
> why the heck she is in the kitchen when I'm trying to cook, she explains
> that she wants the company. She usually tries to clean while I try to
> cook. It doesn't work well. We have a very small kitchen.
My wife usually isn't in the kitchen when I'm at the stove. She likes to
watch me do the prep work because she's mesmerized by my knife work
(mostly Chinese cleavers). I think the stove intimidates her. It's a 36
inch Viking with the griddle in the middle. Seems to be afraid of the
high-powered burners. I ask her if she remembers what Emeril says about
the knobs on the stove being for adjustments of heat level and she says
yes. I then tell her don't be afraid of the stove.

We too have a small kitchen which doesn't allow for much room for
movement with 2 people when one is at the stove cooking. Cousin of mine
call it "a 1 butt kitchen"!

She wonders why when she tries to cook something and I do the same thing
that mine tastes better. I tell her it's a combo of prep work, love, and
cooking technique. I've offered to show her how I do certain things, she
just never takes me up on the offer, preferring to getting the oral
Cliffs Notes version.
--
Jack N2MPU
Proud NRA Life Member (as is my wife)