Steve and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary yesterday. It wasn't much of a celebration, since we both more or less forgot till late morning.
We didn't forget because we were super busy, or super stressed out, we just forgot. I don't mind, because most days I am treated the way I would want to be treated on my anniversary. Every day with Steve is pretty special, so anniversaries are just icing. They are definitely not the important thing.
Of course, I love any opportunity to reminisce. I thought about when Steve and I first started dating, in May of '91. I was a, *cough* waitress, with my tiny little baby in a studio apartment in Carlsbad, right on the water. I was pretty hippy-ish, and free-spirited. I was in love with fresh food I could get, that I never tasted in Las Vegas. I have always been a open-minded, adventurous eater, and I had new world with in walking distance of my apartment.
Exotic food was a big part of my life with my dad. We had a close family friend who owned a Moroccan restaurant; my stepmother and I went out for sushi regularly. I had a dear Filipino friend who taught me how to make lumpia, a long skinny Filipino egg roll, and a Greek roommate who taught me how to make a perfect Avgolemono, a chicken rice and lemon soup thickened with eggs.
In my tiny apartment, with its tinier kitchen, I cooked from scratch, making homemade red sauce, and soups with woefully inadequate cooking utensils. Let's just say, I got a lot of use out of my tea kettle!
Steve was the son of white, Midwestern parents, who favored rich mild food, to wild ethnic things. He just wasn't exposed to much besides all American, and some really good Mexican. His parents were very good at what they cooked, like pot roast, and grilled boneless skinless chicken breasts, and pork loin, but the food Steve grew up eating was as foreign to me as what I ate was to him. Not only was my pastor father's home full of diversity, it was short on money. Meat was a luxury. I never tasted pork loin until I had it at my future in-laws house. We never bought de-boned chicken, it was too expensive. To this day, I can break down a whole chicken in 7 minutes flat, and have the back in the freezer to save for soup. Roast was a whole other thing. I was married to Steve for 11 years before I could make a pot roast without calling his mother for help.
The point is, Steve's and my food background were as different as everything else about us when we met. He told me he was not a foodie. He was an "eat to live" not "live to eat" kind of guy. I took this as a challenge. Our second date was Steve's first time eating sushi. I didn't go easy on him either. Remember, I was poor, so I was not going to waste a night at a sushi restaurant on California rolls and cooked sushi. I ordered raw fish, octopus, and eel. He was a total gamer. After my success with the sushi, I began to order from the Armenian restaurant down the street from where I lived. Within a week we had knocked down tabbouleh salad, grilled lamb, and my beloved Avgolemono. He wasn't scared yet, in fact, he loved it! I cooked with whole grains, and fresh herbs. He began enjoying food. Together we discovered a seafood restaurant, literally half in the water, half on the shore, that printed new menus everyday, to accommodate the haul, and seasonal produce. He could no longer say he was not a foodie.
In spite of Steve's great palate, and open mind about food, I still did most of the cooking in the early part of our marriage. After the birth of Katie, I was instructed by my very forceful midwife to do nothing but care for the baby for at least two weeks. That meant my handsome one was doing all the cooking for the family. To complicate things, I was nursing the baby, so I couldn't eat anything gas producing, dairy, anything spicy, garlic, or chocolate. Sigh, just thinking about it makes me sad. (Sorry Naise, and Burpykitty, I know I get no sympathy;) I am just not a big fan of food restrictions ) What followed were two weeks of the blandest, saddest food to ever grace plates. We ate boxed mashed potatoes, chicken cutlets, and soggy mixed vegetables, every night.
Shortly after the bland food debacle, Steve taught himself how to cook. He picked the cook books with the most pictures, and the most precise instructions, and he learned how to make sauces from scratch. He perfected grilling, and mastered several potato recipes. From there he went on to becoming innovative, creative, and daring. It did not take long for him to cook as well as I do. If that sounds a little boastful, I don't mean it to. I can cook well, but it's okay, cause I suck at almost everything else.
Food has continued to play a big role in our relationship. Some of my favorite nights are "date nights". We feed the kids early and send them upstairs. Then we pour a glass of wine, and take our time making a gourmet meal, complete with appetizers, or at least, a cheese tray. These are time we go all out, making slow cooking reduction sauces, or trying a new recipe for the first time, preferably one our kids would hate. We take our time, laughing, and talking and flirting. We usually eat by candlelight, and we usually end up sharing with the pajama clad ones who just can't manage to stay upstairs once the dinner is on our plates. Unfortunately the kids never hate
what we have made.
We have made it a point to make food a big part of family life too, not just couple life. We are teaching or have taught all the kids how to cook. We don't dumb down food for them. We serve strong cheese, and spice everything up. We serve vegetables and salads and expect them to be eaten.
Brillat-Savarin said, "Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you who you are." If that is true of Steve and me, then this is who we are.
One exotic, left of center, eating for pleasure girl, added to one steadfast, no frills, eating for sustenance boy, added together to create one curious, creative, and nourished family.
