Ted and I seldom get to eat dinner together. I'd have to use the fingers and toes of both of us plus my other (undisclosed) lover to count how many times I've been asleep when he gets home. Same for the number of times I've left and he's still conked out. Recently, we've been working on coordinating a little better so we can have a few more meals at home. Well, on one of these nights, I was busy slaving away at various teacher-related tasks, having picked and nibbled all night. He came home and was hungry, so he started banging pots and pans around in the kitchen.
And then I heard it. The tell-tale sound of a VHS-sized cardboard box being ripped open and the unmistakable shimmy of dried pasta sliding out of it into a pot of boiling water. "ARE YOU MAKING MACARONI AND CHEESE?!?", said I. Long ago, friends of mine mentioned they refer to it as "yellow death" and I admit the name has kinda stuck. As the 8 minutes ticked by, however, I realized I was actually a teensy bit hungry.
"YEAH, YA WANT SOME?" he replied.
"UM....A LITTLE BIT. REALLY LITTLE." (We were in different rooms, see, so we had to yell.)
More clinking and a small clang. Then he enters the living room proud as a peacock, yet not smiling, and he set this in front of me and all my papers:
As I was laughing with glee, his first words were, "And it's SHELLS and cheese." And as he walked back to the kitchen, "Oh, baby. Don't you know it's all about presentation?"
Becky, I don't have arms long enough to thank you for that training. I was still laughing when I took my first fresh-ground-pepper bite. It was really good! I had to compliment Ted on his masterful work, to which he retorted, "I don't mess around with the macaroni. I was king of it in college. The secret is heating up the butter and milk before you add it - makes it creamier."
Consider me converted. I know what to ask for next time he cooks. hehehehehehe