About 2 months ago Mr X started a new job. After working for the same company for over a decade – and not going anywhere – he thought it was time to move on. I must admit I did too because although I enjoyed working with him and hanging out during our break times, deep down I knew he wasn’t being challenged with that job and he needed to work somewhere different.
As a result of Mr X’s new job and thus different hours he works, I have had to make some additions to my own schedule and one of those changes is to cook more meals.
I’m not afraid to say that I’m not a huge fan of cooking. I feel as though it monopolises my time and whenever I’m stuck dealing with food for too long I loose my appetite. I much prefer to prepare a meal, throw it in the oven and come back in awhile to serve it or cook meals with minimum preparation involved so I don’t grow bored with it all.
Mr X on the other hand loves to cook. He’s a natural in the kitchen and quite literally throws things together for us. He cooks me a mean barramundi with garlic butter on the BBQ and when he prepares/cooks us rissoles he throws in all sorts of ingredients which make them taste quite delicious. Good thing he hasn’t perfected my lasagne. A girl has to have at least one good dish up her sleeve.
You know it’s probably not a huge surprise that I would be in a relationship with a guy who loves to cook because my dad prepared most of our meals as kids. Sure they were pretty simple meals such as braised steak and onion with veggies and mash or crumb steak but it still tasted hella good. It’s probably also the reason why my tastebuds prefer good ole Aussie classics such as cottage pie, roast lamb, bangers (sausages) and mash – over exotic dishes or ones with fancy pansy names.
Keep it real, you know.
Unfortunately my reality now involves using the kitchen more and juggling more of the cooking duties with Mr X. I don’t mind so much really because I want my man to have a decent meal each work day but now it leaves me with the question of WTF am I going to cook when it’s my turn? Gosh I may even have to meal plan – gasp!