Last weekend we finally managed to get all three of us together (only took four months!) so we could travel up to Indy (Indianapolis, for you non-Hoosiers) to visit my son, his wife and our grandson. Unfortunately, it was a rainy, chilly, dreary day. But we were together and we had a nice time visiting with the rest of the family. And the little one is growing so quickly. Babies tend to do that, don't they?
So, we had lunch out and then spent some time strolling around a nearby open-air mall (would it kill them to have covered walk ways?) before we needed to head back home. After a couple of hours driving through the rain we arrived home just in time for dinner. Oh, joy. Now I get to cook. Or not. I'm tired after driving and walking around in the rain and the last thing I want to do is spend time in the kitchen. So I decided to go with my favorite comfort meal when I don't feel good. Drum roll please: grilled cheese sandwiches and soup. Now, my daughter only likes the microwaveable chicken and noodles that comes in a handy container, so that is what she gets. I have to admit that I do have a soft spot for the microwave creamy tomato soup, so I was looking forward to that. However, the dear husband decided to throw a monkey wrench in the works. It seems the only other thing around is a container of vegetable beef soup for two. There goes my tomato soup with chopped green onion and freshly grated cheddar cheese on top.
Being the dutiful wife that I am, I reluctantly heat the soup while I make the sandwiches. Then I taste the stuff. Great, I guess I was in the mood for sodium, preservatives and mushy things that sort of resembled vegetables - not. I couldn't finish the stuff and I vowed never again.
Fast forward a couple of days. I purchased a couple of beef shanks, some veggies and some one-cup plastic containers at my regular grocery store.
Now, do you remember the title of this post? When I told my husband what I had made, he pouted. He actually likes that chemical-laden crap in a can. What's a foodie to do?
4 comments:
Buy the sodium-laden, preservative-pumped crap for him. Keep the good shit for yourself.
My thoughts exactly.
That's pretty mean to the husband.
Anonymous: That's what all husbands say, dear. But you know you love my cooking.
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