JJ: What's Cookin', Good Lookin'?

When Susan was around, Bec and I ate healthier than we ever had, lots of rice and veggies and good food. It was nice to have family meals and she was an excellent cook. There were a few things that stick in my memory though. My habit of dumping salt into everything got rebuked and the bad things salt did were drummed into my head, so I switched to pepper. I still have the bad habit of unscrewing the lid on the pepper shaker and pouring a black layer onto everything on my plate when I eat. That didn't please Susan any more than the salt did. The other eating habit of mine that bugged her was my routine of dumping a spoonful of Miracle Whip into any soups, veggies, or rice specials before I added the pepper. She always asked me what was wrong with the food the way she prepared it, and I always answered truthfully, that it was delicious but it was even better with the Mayo added. I did the same thing with ketchup on a few foods, but she convinced me that it was mostly sugar so I cut back on it and just used more Mayo. As a kid, I had decided to enforce one rule when I got my own home -- reading at the table would be allowed. Unlike Lyn, Susan had no problem with that, neither did Carina or Bec. It made for some pleasant meals. Reading even came in handy on the rare occasions when the food wasn't up to par -- it gave me an excuse to keep my head down and mouth shut. There were a few rare little glitches in some of the things Susan produced, like the cherry pie that she served complete with pits. We'd been given the canned cherries and she assumed they had been pitted. It made for some crunchy deserts and some extra silence at mealtime -- I learned to not mention little things like that. Or mention ASS U ME . Then there was the time she decided to be Miss Efficiency and straighten up the cupboards. This was fine, except she decided to combine the partial jars of instant coffee. This would have been a great idea, but one of the bottles she mixed in was ground coffee. I guess it worked out, though -- crunchy coffee to go with the crunchy pie. Then there was my gesture towards efficiency. I rearranged the kitchen counters and accidentally wired the microwave into the 220 volt line to the stove. Note to self: self-nuking microwaves can't be cleaned. When the smoke clears, you just have to throw the pieces away. The only part of them that is cold is the food you just put in, and it tastes funny. Then there was the venison. I shot a doe and gave her the meat and she tried smoke-curing it. I'm not sure what she did wrong, but even my gulp-down-anything-vaguely-edible Labrador spat some out when I tossed it to him, and then gave me a look of such utter disgust and reproach like I'd never received before. When Susan got married a few years later, I told her husband-to-be that she would treat him like a God. When he asked what I meant, I told him she'd give him burnt offerings every day. I probably shouldn't have said that when she was standing there by me, though. My ribs haven't been the same since. TBC (Me)