Delectable Disagreement

In honor of my favorite veteran, my husband, and posted with his blessing.
 
Jay is good-natured and level-headed. But, like us all, there are times he's not in the mood to listen to reason. On those rare occasions, I've learned that it's easier to agree with him than to argue.

For example, when we were first married, he wanted to learn how to cook. I used the term "learn" loosely since he refused instruction and abhorred following recipes. He just haphazardly threw food items together hoping an edible dish would miraculously emerge. Most experiments rapidly emerged from his mouth directly into the garbage can.

I'll spare you the details of debacles he concocted at home, and merely mention that he was banned from the firehouse kitchen for "helping" with dinner by surreptitiously adding arbitrary ingredients to meals as they were being prepared. You don't get between hungry firefighters and palatable food without suffering consequences.

When he complained, I was unsympathetic. "Sorry, babe, I don't blame them. First, you can't add something to a meal without telling the person who is cooking it. Second, until you have experience, you have to stick to recipes."

"But I see people grab stuff out of cupboards, add it or substitute it for something else, and the meal turns out great. If they can do it, than I can do it," he insisted.

"But, honey, we don't add random ingredients. We've cooked from recipes long enough to understand which flavors work together," I reasoned. "When the Oriental dressing ran low, I added sesame oil, rice wine vinegar, soy sauce, ginger, and brown sugar to stretch it. Not olive oil, lemonade, Dr. Pepper, cinnamon, and jelly beans. You have to know what you're doing if you want it to taste right."

He remained unconvinced.

One weekend, friends were coming to dinner. They'd asked if I would serve a casserole that I'd made them on a previous occasion. (Well, not that casserole exactly, because we ate that one, but one remarkably similar to it.) Jay had been my sous-chef in the past, but this time he wanted to make the casserole by himself. It's not a difficult recipe, so I didn't mind as long as he agreed not to change anything without consulting me.

He reluctantly promised, and so I stayed out of the kitchen.

Later, Jay came to the bedroom to tell me that the meal was progressing well. As he walked away, he tossed over his shoulder, with feigned nonchalance, "Oh, and we're out of unsweetened cornflakes for the casserole topping, so I'm using something else."

"Wait!" I yelped.

"What?" He poked his head back into the room with a set expression.

Trying to sound calm, I answered, "Yeah, see, honey, I'm just curious about what you plan to use in place of unsweetened cornflakes. Especially since we don't have any unsweetened wheat, rice, or oat flakes."

"I'm using granola," he firmly replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, no, see, we have like mango yogurt granola. And a berry, vanilla, and brown sugar granola. Neither of which will work on a chicken, veggie, and rice casserole."

"The recipe calls for cereal," he enlightened me, with exaggerated patience, "and granola is cereal."

"Yeah, no, see, sweetie, the recipe specifically says unsweetened cereal. And we don't have any."

"I don't have time to go to the store, so I'm going to use granola," he informed me, determinedly.

"Yeah, see, that won't taste good with chicken, celery, onions, mushrooms, and rice."

"I'm using granola," was his stubborn reply. "Cereal is cereal!"

At that point, my patience waned, and I wanted to yell, "Are you crazy? Don't you dare do that to our guests. What is wrong with you!" But 1 Corinthians 13 says that love is not irritable or rude, and I vowed to love Jay, so (for better or worse) my response options were greatly limited. Also, had I forced him to go to the store "unnecessarily," he would have been grumpy for the rest of the evening. I didn't want that, so instead of arguing, I agreed with him.

"You know, Jay, you do have a point," I acquiesced. "Cereal is cereal."

"Yes, it is." He affirmed, nodding with satisfaction at my capitulation.

"Then leave the topping off 3/4ths of the casserole, make a topping with granola, like you want, and put it on the remaining 1/4th. That portion will be just for you."

That gave him pause.

"Who knows? It might even be edible, " I added, brightly. "You can let us know."

He mulled that over, and then muttered, "I may have time to go to the store."

"Really, darling, if you're too busy, you don't have to," I assured him. "We'll enjoy the meal without the topping, and you can have the wonderfully unique experience of eating sugary berry-granola-chicken casserole."

Another pause. 

"That's okay," he finally said, grudgingly. "I think can find time to go to the store."

"You know, honey," I encouraged, "I think you should make granola topping. For your personal portion, that is." I was beginning to get curious. Not curious enough to subject our guests to the experiment, but curious enough to let him try it. 

"No, no. I'll go to the store for the cornflakes," he answered, dryly.

"Unsweetened cornflakes," I reminded. "Come on, be adventurous; put granola on your section," I coaxed, because by then I really, really, really wanted him to try it. "You might start a whole new food trend!"

He rolled his eyes as he put on his shoes.

"You might become famous," I continued, optimistically, "for inventing chicken and celery oatmeal cookies!"

He tried to hide a smile as he reached for his wallet.

"Or chicken, blueberry, and onion breakfast bars!" I enthused.

He snickered as he reached for his keys.

"While you're there, pick up some Lucky Charms. The marshmallow bits might taste 'magically delicious' with chicken, rice, and vegetables!"

He was openly laughing as the door shut behind him.

Yep, it's easier to agree with him than to argue.
 

Mushrooms, celery, chicken, onions, and Lucky Charms® are a nutritious part of this complete breakfast!

Verse of the day: (Ephesians 4:2-3) "Always be humble and gentle, making allowances for the faults of others because of your love." I've perfected the art of humbly and gently spitting out the culinary results of "the faults of others." Because of my love.

Follow up:  Shortly after this episode, he decided to leave the culinary decisions to me. So if we invite you to dinner, you can eat without fear.
For another Jay story, check out "Preplanned" Packing.