Last night I made venison meatloaf for my husband.
I'm really getting a hang of this cooking thing. It's really hilarious to me. How did this New York I-only-order-in-delivery girl start cooking?
Well, first of all, I have a freezer full of meat that my husband has provided through as they say down here, "harvesting game." Translation: he has killed 4 deer this season. I also have birds and 65 pounds of shrimp. So, as you can see, I have lots of material to work with. And, I mean, how traditional can our relationship be? My husband literally "brings home the bacon" and I cook it.
The funny thing -- and one that I don't quite understand yet -- is that I really enjoy cooking for my husband. Let me be clear. I don't like to cook. But, I like cooking for my husband because it allows me to express my love to him by nurturing him through food. (He's not a picky eater, he likes what I cook, and he doesn't eat very well if he tries to cook or prepare food for himself.) I like to cook and serve him food. (He's great with dishes and clean up.)
I'm an extremely independent person -- so independent that at age 8 I wrote an essay about how I wanted to be a bacholorette like my cousin Lynn because I didn't want to have to cook for my husband. I never wanted to get locked into a role that involved chores like cooking because cooking felt like a form of enslavement.
But, now when I cook for Landon, I get this strange internal warm and fuzzy feeling inside that develops deep inside of me when I'm standing over the stove stirring and pouring and sautee-ing. I love the feeling of knowing I can care for my husband in this primitive and primeval way. It's so strange. As I nurture him, I find like I am nurturing my own soul.
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1 comment:
The venison meatloaf recipe reminds me of Steve Martin's joke about how to have a million dollars and pay zero taxes..."First, get a million dollars..." Well, the recipe sounds really good but "First, get a deer...!" BB
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