A Culinary Masterpiece

A Delightful Addendum to the Previous Post

After reading my last entry, Rad asked if I could post about what an awesome cook he really is... since I mentioned the ONE time he's ever messed up in the kitchen. First off, I never thought his eyes would fall upon that post...ever. You see, he only reads my blog when I force him to (although there's no excuse to have belittled him like that). Secondly, I am very lucky to have such a culinary artist as a husband (no I'm not calling you feminine honey). Folks, it's true, my husband is a pretty good cook for a man--and not just with the steaks and potatoes, barbecued chicken and pulled pork burritos. Let's take for instance, the French Toast he made me for breakfast last Saturday.

So we have a little device called the GT Xpress (As seen on TV). After spending hours watching the infomercial Friday night, we were inspired to actually use the one that we got as a wedding gift. The next morning, I sent Rad out to make us some french toast, another favorite breakfast food of mine, using the GT Xpress.
Meanwhile, I cleaned up the kitchen and watched out of the corner of my eye as each of the ingredients was added generously to the shallow dipping pan. Eggs, cinnamon, brown sugar, vanilla, and finally, the bread. It seemed to be going alright, but then again, it wasn't over yet. While the battered bread was steaming inside the GT Xpress, I noticed the foulest of smells, and didn't dare comment on it... especially since Rad kept saying how good it smelt.

Fast forward to the eating part. I took one bite and threw it back up on my plate (charming, I know). Rad stared in shock, his fork hovering centimeters from his mouth. Was he trying to sabotage me for making fun of him? No, not like him at all. I knew the culprit almost immediately.
"You put paprika in the french toast!" I cried, literally.
"What? That's not possible!" he exclaimed, running over to the ingredients on the counter. "I swear I checked the label. See, it's Cin--" He trailed off. "Cumin," he sighed bitterly. "I guess I saw the letters C and N and just assumed it was the cinnamon."
I would not wish that evil upon anyone-- french toast a la cumin, except my own husband. Sadly, I could not convince him to take a bite of his masterpiece and I knew I was destined to face the agony alone. That horrid, bitter taste was on my tongue three brushes later. In fact, I don't know if I will ever feel the same way about french toast. To top it all off, Rad wouldn't even allow me to take a picture of the finished product, knowing it would only lead to future embarrassment.

My husband the chef. To clear the record, he's not an idiot and I hope I didn't give anyone that impression. His cooking far exceeds my own abilities. Heck, why do ya think I have him making the french toast in the first place. I'm no all star in the kitchen. Don't worry babe-- two bad incidences won't wipe away a year of positive achievement. Mind if we steer clear of breakfast foods though?

I am so going to be in trouble for this guys. Pray for me.

Today's Reflection- wish I was here again.. It's almost been a year!