Shame On Me! Saturday

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Ever done something really mean or sneaky, that was so darn funny, you just aren't able to feel guilty about it? Join in and write your own Shame On Me! Saturday post. Don't forget to add the link for it to the Mr. Linky form.

Hubs was raised to believe that a woman's place is in the kitchen. Honest to blog, no matter what else is going on in my day, if I don't manage to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I am a disappointment. When I say "cook", I mean COOK. Cold cereal, sandwiches, frozen pizza, any of those things are not considered real cooking. So, for example, if I baked a frozen entree one night, with all the fixings, and maybe we had hot dogs and fries the next night. Hubs would say that I had not cooked in three days. To him, cooking requires that one start with raw meat, one has to actually peel the potatoes, and the bread needs to start from scratch. Well, everyone except for Hubs is fully aware that this is all in his head. He thinks that the length of time that you slave over a meal is directly related to how much you actually love and appreciate him. I say Bull SH*T!. Plus, nothing is ever cooked to his satisfaction. It always needs more salt, or pepper, or isn't done enough, or is overcooked. I know this is bologna, as everyone else loves my cooking and asks for the recipes. I really can't blame him though. He is partial to his mama's cooking, as that is what he was raised on, and her food tastes horrible. So, he just doesn't know any better.

Now I, on the other hand, take into account how busy a day has been, and am perfectly happy with some canned biscuits and canned beef stew. Heck, I actually CRAVE that sort of meal at times. So do the kids. It's a real treat to them if we have frozen pizza and tater tots.

Hubs and I had a big falling out once, because I served canned pintos. I made the cornbread and creamed potatoes from scratch. I just made the mistake of letting him see the empty cans in the trash. He said that canned pintos were horrible and not fit for a dog to eat. So a few weeks later, this is what I did...

I took several cans of STORE BRAND pintos and kept opening and dumping them into the electric pressure cooker, until it was full. These were the same brand that he had said weren't fit for a dog to eat. I added nothing else, no salt, no fat back, nothing. I had everyone in the house, that was old enough to understand, watch me "prepare" those beans. I turned on the cooker and let the beans go through one round of pressure cooking. Just enough to fill the kitchen with the smell of cooking beans. We all held our breath, as I served these to Hubs. He tasted them and looked at me. "Do they need more salt?, I asked. "No, they are perfect. I believe this is the best pot of beans you've ever made." Freaking amazing!

None of us have ever "spilled the beans" and told him the truth about that night's dinner.

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