In the six years that I have been with my husband, he has yet to make a real meal in the kitchen. Sometimes I don't even think he knows where the kitchen is, because apparently he's not capable of even getting his own drinks while he watches TV.
This man has gotten off the hook way too long.
Plus, doesn't he know food is the way to my heart?
He finally figured it out the other night.
This is his rendition of Panera's broccoli cheddar soup, made at my request. (And by his rendition, I mean there was lots of ingredient substitutions and several steps skipped in the recipe)
And let's be honest, the request was basically a joke because I never in a million years thought he would drag his man butt to the store and then home to the kitchen.
But he did.
I guess he got tired fending for himself. I have holed myself up in my sewing room for the past few weeks trying to make all of the custom apron orders that I have to ship out before the holidays.
And God bless the man. He made both sweet and unsweet tea to drink, too.
He grew up with Southern roots and won't drink anything but sweet tea. I come from Kansas where sugar in your tea is for sissies.
And to top it all off, he got my drug of choice. Well, at least that's what I call it.
These potato rolls are so addicting they may as well be crack. I might one day have to go to rehab to get myself to stop eating the entire bag in one sitting.
The meal really wasn't half bad. I even got seconds to boost his ego a little.
No more excuses, I now know he can do it.
Well, that's if you ignore the fact that he literally called my cell phone seven times with questions. But the stuff was edible and that's about all you can say for my food half the time.