Cooking lessons

When Ryan and I first started dating I wanted a snack. To be more precise, I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich. I’ve always enjoyed gcs, as they are going to be dubbed, because they are so quick and simple. Not to mention I make a near perfect one when I do make them. I use the perfect amount of butter which is usually not very much since butter is pretty much disgusting in itself. I know the perfect temperature and then right amount of time to cook each side to where it is a commercial worthy sandwich. Kraft would be proud. If only I could get it to pull apart as delicately as they do, I could quite possibly be on payroll. Well, when Ryan made me a gcs for the first time it was more like a mess of cheese, butter, and bread. Hmm…was it really possible to demolish a sandwich that I’m pretty sure I managed to cook with ease by age 10? Yes, with Ryan making it apparently so. Now, for the record, Ryan is a great cook. So great, in fact, he actually makes deer meat taste like chicken and I can eat it with no problem. I never doubt his cooking skills…well, most of the time.

On the verge of what I considered near death due to my hunger tonight, Ryan asked repeatedly what I wanted to eat for supper. “Nothing, pick for me, I don’t know, anything, something, now please, hurry I’m dying” were the responses he got from me. Suddenly a gcs and chicken noodle soup was exactly what I wanted. I had been lying on the couch since 5 o’clock cuddled up to my hubs (our nightly routine due to pregnancy) and had no urge to get up whatsoever unless it was to potty. And that’s exactly what I did. But, when I remember the incident of Ryan’s gcs outcome and cooking ability (think slapping butter into the pan, letting it semi-melt, laying bread on it, letting it “cook”, then adding cheese, then wondering how you’re going to get the other side of the bread to cook since there is no butter on it. Yes, I did witness this routine as my then-boyfriend tried helplessly to make me a sandwich.) I hopped up off the couch to his rescue. He got the soup going and we basically had a tutorial of grilled cheese sandwich making.

First, we lightly (and very evenly) coat both sides of bread with butter. Then we set the stove at the magic number 6.5 and let it heat. Once heated, we add the first piece of bread---butter side down---, immediately added our cheese on top of that, and then add the second piece of bread---butter side up---This was so hard for my dear love to understand and I’m not too sure why. Once it cooked evenly and to half perfection I was able to give the pan a little shake and toss the sandwich in the air all while flipping it over. Ryan’s response? “Shut up! Did you really just do that?” My reply, “Um, yah. I have mad sandwich skills,” and I proceeded to finish my sandwich to complete perfection. I added it to my plate and enjoyed my little dinner of a sandwich and soup. Ryan then decided he wanted a gcs, but with turkey. (Gag.) He started making his sandwich trying to recall all the details I had just showed him moments before. He got both sides of the bread buttered. Check. Cheese out. Check. Turkey. Check. He set the first piece butter side down. Then added cheese and turkey. Doing good so far. Then the first mistake…setting the second piece of bread butter side down again. Second mistake…trying to pull a Sarah and flipping the sandwich mid air which resulted in a burning of the cheese for it hit the pan and he couldn’t get it up quick enough. The end result? A squished somewhat looking sandwich. Nonetheless, he ate it. I think it was out of pride because I saw the sandwich. I mean, I stood right there with him as he made it and there was no way it was “good.” I offered about 10 times to make one for him but he refused…I tried…He tried…

While Ryan is great at other things---cooking, cleaning, laundry, helping me out, being a good husband---he can fail miserably at other very simple things…Since he is convinced we’re having a girl, maybe we should start working on ponytails and braids. Starting…now?