Before we were married, Ricardo had been a bachelor for going on 17 years. (Yes, I know, that makes him sound so old). He cooked like a bachelor. He ate like a bachelor. The extent of any homecooked meal was scrambling some eggs and frying bacon for a breakfast burrito. I remember coming over to his house and looking in his freezer and being tremendously shocked at the amount of frozen food that had taken up residence there. His favorite was some really horrible frozen salisbury steaks, which came 6 to a pack. He would cook the whole thing and eat them all with a half a loaf of bread.
I know.
It doesn't get any more unappealing than that.
So enter ME. I love to cook, and have accumulated quite a few tasty recipes over the years. Don't get me wrong, Ricardo likes my cooking and appreciates home-cooked meals. He will compliment them and let me know when he especially likes something I've made. But sometimes I wonder if he doesn't secretly long for the days when he could have Frozen Fat and Sodium every night for dinner. It cracks me up when I occasionally ask him what he would like for dinner. His answer?
Hamburgers.
Or Chili Dogs.
Or frozen pizza.
Now, I am not discriminating against these fine foods. They all have their place and I have certainly relied on them in a pinch.
I like to think that I have turned his eating habits around, but I know that's not entirely true. Oh, sure, he eats better overall. I sneak ground turkey in place of ground beef whenever possible. I have eliminated his white bread for the healthier stone ground whole wheat variety. Same with whole wheat pasta. And more veggies. But I'm afraid his true love still remains with those frozen foods of (mostly) bygone days.
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