Wednesday, April 24, 2013


I just spent most of my sacred work-free time shopping for dinner, prepping for dinner, and making dinner. I made pea curry from scratch. This required me to violently whack open a coconut with a hammer and peel off the fresh meat- much easier said that done. I paired the pea curry with tandoori chicken which I had prepped early in the morning (skipping my morning trip to the gym) and let marinate all day. I served the curry and chicken with rice, raita, and naan (which I usually make from scratch but ran out of time today).

After all the effort, I was pleased with the results but exhausted. I had managed to cook the meal while my husband was at the gym and with both kids getting into messes, making repeated requests from me, and being cranky and clingy. I had to toss frozen peas on the floor for Ryan as a distraction once or twice and then bribe him with a dum dum sucker.

When my husband walked through the door at 8:00 p.m. and approached a meticulously set dining table full of hot food, I was just a little burnt out. A couple bites into the meal I asked my husband what he thought of my dinner, expecting at least a "thank you." Right?

He just shrugged his shoulders and make a glutteral sound in the back of his throught that seemed to say, "I don't know."

Seriously?! Can you at least FAKE IT? PLEASE?!

I was tempted to threaten him by saying, "Fine. Tomorrow you can just eat htodogs." But I knew he would secretly love that.


  1. HA. One time I made this fab dish for my then boyfriend (now husband). He took one look at it and told me, BTW. I'm allergic to tomatoes. WTF, man.

    Personally, I think you should serve him the leftovers all week :)

  2. Sounds amazing! Sorry your meal was underappreciated. It is so galling when you put so much effort in and nobody cares. How hard is it to just say, "It's great, thank you!" Did the kids eat it, at least?

  3. Better than my husband who would sometimes say "not your best effort" before my smacks got harder. ;-) For some reason, both husband and the kids decide that dinner prep time is the time they MUST talk to me/play with me/have my full attention. It is galling. And then when I make them exquisite creations, they bitch or grunt. I feel your pain.