Tuesday, December 30, 2008

DING Round 1



sighed a maiden both tender and true

I’ve done plenty of dreaming of you

for I’m in the habit

of eating welsh rarebit

and there’s no telling what I will do!

author unknown

I remember watching an old Andy Griffeth show where he said, “What looks like fighten to some folks is waltzen to others.” The following is a description of a beautiful ballet performed by a newly married couple.

We wasted no time starting the work on that 3rd member of our family brood. Our marriage had come complete with two 5 year old girls. One from his side and one from mine. Ahhhh but now the “bean in the pot” would help to blend the flavours of this newly mixed family stew!

Two months into the pregnancy I was quite content because I hadn’t yet thrown up and all appeared to be going well health wise. We were tight financially, (still) and I accepted all food donations where ever they came from. Since we lived in Alaska, naturally some one had extra moose liver on hand. I loved liver! Wouldn’t my frugal and thrifty hubby be proud!

“I hate liver.”, he said trying not to grimace. Distraught over the realization that I was not going to impress him and suddenly awash in pregnancy hormones, I couldn’t stop the rush of tears that welled up in my eyes. My lips trembled. “You.. you hav’nt had liver the (sniff) way I make it!” I said.

“Sweetie Pie,” (he always starts any disagreement with this phrase) “my mother has prepared liver as many ways as there are in this universe and it still makes me throw up!” My lower lip twitched and another tear worthy of an alligator slid down my cheek. He groaned. “Honey Bun,” (now I knew there was no convincing him because he had used the second pre argument phrase) “when my grandmother invited me over for supper with the rest of my family, she served the best tasting liver I’ve ever had in my life and I still had to spit it out into my napkin! It makes me sick!”

I looked at the free package of meat that represented to me, a stretching of my grocery money and turned around slowly. More slowly than usual because the speed at which one turns when one is pouting is directly proportional to how much sympathy one generates. It is a carefully orchestrated maneuver. Just as my body was at a 3/4 turn from my beloved I let go with a barely audible sob. This strategy would never have worked 5 years later but he was new to the game as was I and well, this skirmish was mine!

He agreed to try MY liver! Happily I began preparations for the best liver meal he had ever eaten in his life. When I had finished cooking this, not only would he LOVE liver, he would beg me to prepare it this way at least once a week! I was so going to impress my man!

As we sat down at the table I failed to notice the slight green tinge around his face. He forced a week smile. No problem though. All that reluctance would change as soon as he tasted this gourmet fair. I served him a heaping plate full of steamy liver strauganoff. I sat and waited. He stared at his plate with knife in one hand and fork in the other. Trying to set a good example for him I sliced and stabbed a fork full of the delicacy. “Mmmmmm”, I murmured and cast hopeful eyes in his direction.

Five minutes had gone by and he was still slicing his liver. The chunks had begun about the size of good beef stew size meat pieces and now he had reduced each morsel to a sliver. “Sweetie Pie”, I said. (oh no! Now I had used the SP word!) “Why haven’t you even tasted your meal yet?” The green tinge had crept a little further up his face. He ever so slowly lifted that fork of shredded meat to his mouth. Actually placing it in his mouth he began to chew, and chew and chew. He finally came up for air and downed his entire glass of milk. Clearing his throat he said, “That was absolutely the best liver I have ever eaten and I still don’t like liver! That tasted exactly like my grandmothers! “

If he had looked closely into my eyes at that moment he would have seen one phrase in each eye that read, “web page unavailable right now”. Regaining my internal composure, I contemplated his words. I had invented this recipe! No one else had it! What did he mean just like his grandmothers?! Not wanting to appear to start an argument I sat there festering and feeding a growing resentment while he headed rather rapidly I thought, to the bathroom. Well I sighed, no accounting for some peoples tastes and pretended not to care while I cleaned the kitchen.

That evening there came an unexpected knock at the door. Grinning from ear to ear my best friends’ husband dropped off a huge wrapped package of moose liver. He jumped into his car waving a friendly goodbye. Hubby sat in the living room staring at the unwanted but free groceries and leaned his head back on the couch while muttering something under his breath. I stared at the unmanna like package wrapped in its’ fresh butcher block paper.

“Well”, I said with nervous laughter, “this is frozen through completely so there’s no need to cook it right now. It’ll take a while to thaw so I’ll just place it in this giant Pyrex measuring cup and let it thaw out in the fridge for a few days.” “Wonderful”, was the only thing he said. Half of me was angry but the other half was really worried about his green pallor. I placed the liver filled Pyrex cup in the refrigerator and decided to sleep on it. It being my resentment.

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