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Confession of a Dirty Food Whore

I've spent the better part of my day whoring around. I had a small trick to take care of (Anniversary luncheon for 75 people catered on site) and many tasks and errands to satisfy my Domestic Goddess duties.

The Husband happened to mention in passing that he was craving red beans and rice. The Husband rarely says when he's craving something. He's perfectly content to see what I come up with in the kitchen and always licks his plate clean with a, "That was delicious, baby" like a good husband should. Well, except for the time I made honey and mustard crusted pork tenderloin. I was in one of my dancing moods and completely forgot his distaste for mustard. Even then, he simply smiled and said, "It was fine, really." Which means, "I love you and fear you enough to never, ever say anything negative about the food you put before me."

Annnnyyyhewww.....

So when he mentions something, I try to make it happen. But today was one of those days when there aren't enough hours in the day and I knew I would not have a lot of quality time in my kitchen.

So... I need a minute to compose myself, here.

Ok.

I am sure it's no shock to any of you that I do not believe in "pre-packaged" foods, hence the Tuna Helper post below. For that particular product, in my world, tuna is to come in steak form and is to be seared on the grill with something like a honey lime glaze and served rare in the middle. But even still, pre-packaged dinners are a major no-no in my rule book. No noodles in sauce, no weird meat products in a can that you cook in a biscuit crust, no alternate microwaveable instructions on the side of the box. No, no, no, no!

Well, while I was at the grocery store picking up items for tomorrow's dinner, I ran across one of those "New Item" displays. Zatarins has put out a new "ready in minutes" entree' of red beans and rice. I mean, there it was, all prepped and ready. It simply needed to be heated through and voila'! Red beans and rice. I stood there for a few minutes and bit my lip. Then I looked from side to side to see who was looking at me. And then I kept shopping.

And the "Little Red Devil of Fast Crap in a Bag" was on my shoulder saying, "Just try it. How bad can it be? The Husband will be happy with red beans and rice, he won't care how it got on his plate!" And I kept saying, "No. NO!" And again with the, "Kris, you've had a really long day. That red beans and rice would be a great side dish with the Cajun spiced chicken you have in the roaster at home."

So I rounded back over to that damned display and... and... and I put it in my cart. I shoved it toward the bottom so no one would see it. But I knew it was in there. And it was killing me.

I felt so dirty.

When I got home I stood with my back to The Husband as I read the instructions and quickly shoved it in the microwave. I had it on his plate next to that luscious bird before he knew it. As we sat eating he said, "Wow, red beans and rice. But... I didn't see you working at the stove..." And as he said those words, I gulped my pale ale and pretended not to hear. "Baby, when did you have time to make red beans and rice? You've been so busy today. I know you put the chicken in the roaster earlier but you weren't even at the stove...you didn't have to do that. You've had a long week..." I could hear The Husband's granny turning in her grave - it's her red beans and rice recipe that I make.

"Ok. OK! You caught me!" I said.

"Caught you?" He had that really innocent puzzled look on his face. (The husband gets that face a lot, actually. Sweet hunk of man that he is.)

"Yes, you caught me. I was so busy today but you had mentioned that red beans and rice sounded really good but I knew I wouldn't have the time to spend on it and I was in the store... And this display... But I said no... And then the Red Devil... and I shoved it toward the bottom...." More gulps of the ale. "And I came home, snuck past you, put it in the microwave and put it on your plate."

"Red Devil wha...? Is that why you're not eating any of it?" He asked while laughing. I nodded yes. "Babycakes, thank you for compromising your values just for me. I know it couldn't have been easy." More laughter, this time while shaking his head.

"So is it any good?" I asked. "Well, it kind of tastes like plastic. But it will do. I love you."

I am nothing more than a Dirty Food Whore.
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Posted by Foodwhore at March 27, 2004 05:38 PM