Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
For someone like me that believes grilled cheese is high cuisine, a dish made from crocodile scales, pixie tears, grass clippings, crushed moon rock and toe jam just doesn’t sound appetising. In fact the only celebrity chef I ever liked was the Swedish one on the Muppets when I was a child.
Looking through her pantry there are enough jars of herbs and spices to sink a battleship. Sadly most of them have hardly been used. When I asked if the crushed cockroach legs were good on steak she got angry. I was told that they were expensive and not to be wasted, in fact they were bought specifically for one recipe. Trying to be supportive (and get myself out of trouble) I said that sounded delicious and suggested that we make it that so I could try it. She answered that when she tried it it didn’t work out properly so she wasn’t going to make it for me.
I just don’t know how to handle this situation. The wild mood swings, the bizarre smells, not able to go out because missing an episode would bring on the apocalypse. How many more males out there are suffering right now because their partners are cooking show addicts ? There are no support groups, no hotlines to call, no rehab centers.
The only thing to do is to break up with her.