The Way to a Man's Heart

If the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, I'm screwed. Then again, it's only a cliche...

This is what I fed him yesterday for lunch: a frozen turkey burger patty, lightly sauteed, over matzo, the bread of affliction that the Jewish people eat at Passover, which I think took place a few months ago, though the nice thing about matzo is that it never really goes bad.

"Ketchup? Mustard?" He asked. I snorted no, no of course not!

Thankfully, I had half a bag of freezer burned Safeway brand frozen veggies leftover from a meal last week, so I cooked those up on the stove to provide a side dish.

He sat on the couch because I have no table, the plate on his lap, the salt shaker on the end table. I sat at my desk, ignoring him, and rushing to finish writing a weekly newsletter that I start working on around 7 a.m., and always think I'll be done with by lunch time, but I never am. To my credit, it was a surprise visit, as he popped by on the way back from playing tennis. Got to love working evenings.

When I asked him if he wanted me to make some lunch, I was kind of surprised he said yes, and then panicked. Hmmmm, what to cook?

The sad thing is that I actually tried, and the sweet thing was that he actually ate it, though I don't think that will happen again.

The following day he cooked us lunch. It was a full fish, over a bed of fancy greens I can't pronounce, or spell, along with heirloom tomatoes, and mushrooms from the farmer's market.

It tasted amazing, and was the polar opposite of my meal... I'm hoping another cliche- opposites attract- is also true.