A pat on the back

If y'all recall, ever since Sweetpotato and I had a little kitchen battle, I have not even touched a pot or pan. I mean, if he's gonna go showin' off all the damn time, making things like wasabi-crusted scallops and peach coulis sauce, I surely am not gonna get in his way. You see, when I think of making a meal I run through the cheapest, healthiest ingredients with the least prep time, and usually end up with a take-out menu. When Sweetpotato decides he's gonna make dinner, it's like a religious experience or something and he paces about the kitchen stirring and flipping and tasting and BRAGGING.

My god, I have never in my life has so much to say about anything I've cooked and, to be sure, I have plenty to say. Last night he made a delicious blackened ribeye with roasted butternut squash and stuffed portabello caps. You wanna know how good it was...just ask him! I mean it was good, I'm not gonna lie, but you'd thought he discovered fire or something the way he way goin' on.

Of course, isn't that just the way with the Y-chromosomes. They can take what's been considered a chore by every mother in the world and turn it into a wondrous event, winning them praise and adulation. And do you know why Y's enjoy cooking so much? Because they don't wash a single damn dish! Oh no, Y's don't cook and clean, they get enough praise for one and leave then other to whoever falls behind them. Sweetpotato thinks we have a lovely little arrangement - he cooks, I clean and I cook, I clean...Queenie don't play that, so Queenie don't cook.

To be fair, I don't really mind washing the dishes if he's gonna be cooking such fabulous dinners...funny how hard it is to hear him congratulating himself with the water running;-)