Me: (peering into freezer) Oh drat, we don't have any boneless chicken left. I thought I'd make Chicken Korma* tonight.
Bear: There is chicken in there, but I think it's on the bone.
Me: (not liking the idea of cutting chicken off the bone for Chicken Korma, which should be nice big chunks) Okay, let's see. I have some of that balsamic vinegar and lemon marinade left...
Bear: Could we have normal chicken tonight?
Bear: Y'know, chicken you bake in the oven? Plain chicken? Normal chicken.
I have to laugh. One thing my husband was not prepared for when we married was my love for what-he-calls-odd foods. My small-town boy grew up on foods cooked with very little spice besides salt and pepper. I love hot and spicy stuff. At some points in our relationship I think he's thought I was trying to kill him from the spiciness of it all. I've adapted pretty well (Chili in our house is seasoned with cumin, not chili, and then I add to my bowl, and I add extra rice to things like red-beans-and-rice, or some stir-frys.) but sometimes I have to have my favorites, and he gets a big salad and a lot of vegetables and a small helping so he can taste. Sometimes I've even won him over, to his surprise.
But normal chicken? Wound me.
We had plain baked chicken last night. Served with roasted carrots and sweet potatoes, and a very garlicky caesar salad.
Tonight he won't be home, so the kids and I? Are having hot and sour soup.
*I use a mix mostly, unless I'm really feeling adventurous. Patak's, a very cool company.