Life as a MRS : Day 1 Cooking Disaster
I married the man of my dreams just 12 days ago. We had the perfect wedding – a packed dance floor, big bouquets of peonies garnishing every table, games in the front yard during cocktail hour, and a beautiful ceremony that took my breath away.
…More about the wedding later.
After four grueling years at Vanderbilt to complete my double major and two years in China slaving away at the somewhat impossible language, I now can say I have achieved another degree: My M.R.S. degree. (Don’t tell Michael, but it was harder to learn Chinese than to get him to marry me…shhh).
As this is such a transitional time in my life, I decided I would share for the next few months about my ‘life as a MRS”:)
I’ve never been much of a cook, as I’m more of a pop-a-veggie-burger-in-the-microwave or head-to-Subway for dinner kind of girl. But over the past several months, EVERYONE has given me oh-so-subtle hints that I need to learn to cook. By this I mean, the plethora of cookbooks, cooking utensils, baking pans, etc. that arrived DAILY at my apartment.
I’ve always possessed the mentality of “I’ll learn to cook once I am married”, but as many of you know, the “when I get married” phrase often holds more of a “NEVER” connotation because it feels like it will never happen to us.
So my boss gave me a Crock Pot recipe for Cuban Black Bean soup, so on Monday night after dinner, I started to prepare. I browned the turkey sausage, got out all the cans of veggies needed, located the spices, and then asked my sweet husband (at 10pm) if he wouldn’t mind cutting up the onions. Oh and while he was at it the garlic, too.
He began cutting and asked me how much of each was needed. “One cup of chopped onions” and “three cloves of garlic-minced”.
The next day, I walked in from work expecting to find the entire house filled with the aroma of the cuban black bean deliciousness – but instead, all I smelled was GARLIC.
I opened the crock pot, peering inside, wondering what had gone wrong. Maybe nothing? Was this how it is supposed to smell?
Then it dawned on me. “Hey Michael, I think a clove of garlic is just one section-not the entire thing.”
We both started dying laughing-wafts of garlic hanging over our (very small) kitchen-and Michael said, “So I put FOURTEEN cloves of garlic in our soup!”
We choked down the soup, laughing, and I promised my sweet husband I WILL LEARN TO COOK.
Funny because the next night he suggested eating out.
If you liked this post, you may also like:
- Life as a MRS: Fire Alarms, Fans, and Why I Need a Toaster
- Life As A Mrs. | Lately…
- A New Family
- Life as a MRS : New Last Name, One Big Celebration, Same ‘Ole Me