Sick Chef

I imagine that in a real restaurant, on the rare occurrence that a chef calls out sick, the other chefs pick up the slack and still turn out great food.

Not in our house.

Since Sunday, Alex has been taken down by the flu. Don't know if it's H1N1, but if it is, I love the irony of my pork-loving husband getting the swine flu.

Anyway. . . what happens when the food-provider in the family is out of commission? TAKE OUT!

Sunday: Ibby's Falafel. Great Middle Eastern restaurant right around the corner from us. I finally gave in and tried Middle Eastern food. . . and LOVED IT. Tried their lamb shawarma. It's my second time trying shawarma and it's not just for me. But I wanted to try Ibby's to see if theirs was different. Their falafel is to die for. And so is their hummus and ghanoush.

Monday: Pizza. It's what Alex wanted - I swear!

Tuesday: Chicken noodle soup from Wegman's for Alex, sushi from Wegmans for me. Of course this means that I had to go to Wegmans. Don't get me wrong - it's a fantastic grocery store. But I HATE food shopping. I NEVER go. And I had to pick up some supplies because Alex was so sick, he hadn't been shopping. Of course, I forgot the granola bars, apples, and Gatorade - all of which were on the list in my hands. I'm just not good at this kind of thing.

Wednesday: Tandoori chicken with Major Grey's chutney and an apple-side-thingy. Yes, I kinda cooked. In his infinite charity, Alex cleaned and cut up the chicken while I prepared the tandoori coating. And then it happened. As I was grating the Granny Smith apples on the grater, the food gods demanded a sacrifice. The top half of my left index knuckle. According to Alex, his grandmother swore that food always tasted better with a bit of flesh and blood in it (especially her potato latkes).

So that's it. I cooked (kinda), and he ate. There's a first (and last) time for everything.

Sous Steph: Things I Hear Alex Say When He's Cooking

Hello fellow foodies! Sous Steph here. Alex has finally decided it's safe to let me blog once and awhile. As the title clearly states: he cooks, I eat. That isn't changing anytime soon. Usually, my activities in the kitchen are simple: stir this, hold that, take this out of the oven, get that out of the kitchen/closet, try this, or just sit-there-and-keep-me-company-while-you're-surfing-the-web. I do it all quite well.

For my first post, I thought it would be interesting to give you an idea of what I hear when Alex is cooking. I am usually an observer, which puts me in the same boat as most of you readers. Without much further ado, Things I Hear Alex Say When He's Cooking:

• "This is coming out awful. We're going to have to order pizza." (We had to do this ONCE, but he says this almost weekly.)
• "I'm breaking one of Bonnie's Rules."
• "Can you read the recipe for me?"
• "Expletive!!!"
• "It's ruined!" (Again, said often, but never true.)
• "I'm a genius."
• "I cook this much better than my mother."
• "Open the window/door. It's too $%*&)$*$#@ hot in here."
• "I don't need any more cookbooks. Look at how many I have. I haven't even cooked out of some of these." (One week later, new cookbook gets added to the collection.)
• "We need a bigger kitchen."
• "I want to buy a ________ (insert kitchen gadget/appliance here)."
• "Quick, take a picture! Where's the camera?"

Edit: more sayings I've thought of:

• "Can you get me _____?" (Always when I'm in my comfy chair in the other room.)
• "Next time, I'm going to . . . ."
  
• "Isn't this fun?" (I respond with a bored look.)
• "Rachel Ray/Bobby Flay is evil."
• "Don't you remember, last time this was more/less _____?" (Me: blank stare.)
  

Why My Wife and Parents Win

Anyone who's known me for any reasonable length of time knows that I'm pretty apathetic towards my birthday. Don't get me wrong, it's not an age thing - in fact, I am pumped for my 30s and I think they are going to be awesome. Nor is it because my parents never made a big deal about my birthday - my birthday was the night where I got to choose the meal (whether cooked or out) and I always had great parties as a little kid. Here's where my problems lie:

1. My birthday is September 4th, and it's just a downright awful time of the year. Summer is over, and everyone is usually away or chock full of plans for Labor Day Weekend. Also, since I'm in public education (as is my wife and many of our friends) it is a crazy & stressful time as we're all scrambling around getting everything together for the start of the school year. To that end, I'm usually too stressed out to relax and enjoy my birthday with my friends. I used to get really upset by that, but these days I'm usually just worried about other things that I don't need a party/dinner out/get-together/whatever.

2. It's a double-whammy of not really wanting people to buy me gifts, and not really knowing what I'd want when people insist. My theory is this: if I really wanted something, I'd buy it. Simple. Unfortunately, this facet of my personality has driven my parents and Stephanie crazy over the years.

So, why do my Stephanie and my parents win? My mother had made a suggestion for a birthday gift, one that I had blown off due to lack of need and lack of storage space. She seemed surprised, seeing this item is something I've always wanted, and have resigned myself to the fact that I won't buy until we move into a bigger house. However, Steph won when she made a suggestion about clearing out some knick-knacks into storage and giving me room for said present. Needless to say, I'm actually getting excited about getting this present.

Here's the challenge: The only hints I'll give you are that it is something for the kitchen (shocking, right?) and I need a good amount of storage space for it. Can you guess what it is? Steph, Mom, Dad, Rory, Mike & Laurie are prohibited from answering ;)