the cook

When I was married 18 years ago, I didn’t really know how to cook. When Jeff and I were first dating, he made me a wonderful dinner at his apartment. Chicken breast stuffed with bleu cheese and steamed artichoke. I was impressed by his choice of the artichoke. I decided to return the favor and brought him to the frozen food section of the grocery store and told him to pick out anything he wanted. I wanted him to know exactly what he was getting into. I guess I wasn’t worried about trying to impress him much!

One time I put pasta into a big pot of cold water on the stove. Then I would bring the water to boil. Jeff saw me do this one time and freaked out. It was kind of funny. He taught me how to do it the right, correct way.

Now I know how to cook. And I enjoy doing it. But so does my husband. It is his hobby now and he really loves it. When we go to a potluck, the ladies all ask him about what he made. It’s cute, and he takes great pride in it. I just make sure they know he is unavailable!

Well, this is a special meat loaf dinner that Jeff sweetly made in memory of my Dad. He liked making it like this himself with the hard boiled egg in the middle. I have never seen it made this way before. He died 13 years ago. And we still miss his presence.


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