One of the few chores I enjoy in my job as hausfrau is cooking. I am not the best housecleaner or laundress, but I do tend to work pretty hard at making meals for Bil and I to enjoy. To be honest, I suppose this is a somewhat selfish pursuit in that eating good food is probably my favorite pastime ever. And in order to indulge this obsession of mine, I know cooking is a must. Especially in this town full of mediocre restaurants and many, many fast food joints.
Anyway, so Bil and I eat pretty well. The kids rarely, if ever, eat my masterpieces, but still I cook most nights, because I refuse to eat chicken nuggets for dinner. Cereal, sometimes, but not nuggets of dubious origins. Don't get me wrong, we don't always have delicious meals, but most nights it is something pretty good. This week alone we ate chicken curry, a really succulent pork loin roast with faux-tatoes (mashed cauliflower with herb cream cheese--one of my favorites), and marinated eggplant and portobello mushroom sandwiches. Oh, and don't forget the peanut butter chocolate chip cookies I made with the kids. Don't you wish you had a wife like me?
The other reason I enjoy cooking is that I like making things for people and am not the most creative girl in the world. I can't really sew, draw, paint, or build things, but a cream puff with homemade pudding I can do. Also, I really equate food with comfort, celebration, grieving, or just about any other emotional activity you can think of (which definitely accounts for the many extra pounds I am carrying around, but I digress).
Today, I decided to make chicken and spinach manicotti. I started early, since I have been trying to have most dinner preparations done before Danny gets home so I am not too tempted to sit the kids in front of the TV for an hour or more. The thing with this manicotti is I kind of improvised the recipe and ended up with far, far more than I had originally intended. Instead of one pan of about four servings, I am now looking at two pans filled with at least 6 very generous (or 8 normal-sized) portions. We will be eating this stuff all weekend long.
This is where my invitation comes in. Anyone want to come over for dinner? There are a few stipulations, though, which must be strictly adhered to. So before you RSVP, read on:
1--You must profess your love for my manicotti with much effusiveness. I have been having a somewhat emotionally difficult week and could use the praise and love. I blame my hormones, but if anyone else does, I will seriously not be pleased. Yes, I am needy, but at least I am open about it.
2--Do not bring any children with you. Mine will be in bed by 6pm at the latest tonight because I just so need a break. Charlotte would not go to sleep last night so I was in her room until 9:00 trying to soothe her. Her crying also kept Danny awake. And since I tend to fall asleep by 9:30 nowadays, I didn't get much ME time.
3--Do not, under any circumstances, look at my kitchen floor, at my bathtub, or in my family room at all. I have only cleaned half the house so far this week and have not gotten to those areas. Cut me some slack. Manicotti doesn't make itself, you know. Did anyone criticize Van Gogh for painting instead of mopping his kitchen floor? I think not.
OK, so let me know if you are coming over and I will try to have some clean dishes and silverware on hand.