After what seemed like years of begging my Boo for at the
least, help with cooking or at the best- a meal cooked for me, he finally
decided to fulfill my heart’s desires! And boy was I chuffed. Even though in my
heart of hearts, I knew that inevitably I would end up being the brains behind the
operation and very likely he would fade into the role of my Sous Chef, I was
delighted! He decided he would make fried chips- Arggghh!!! Typical. My recently
acquired food snobbery means that I look down upon certain foods, when in
actual fact- I absolutely wish I could just throw my weight out of the window
and feast on chips and fried chicken and potato salad and ice cream and cake
and cupcakes and…sigh.
So while he peeled the potatoes and julienne'd them into chip
shapes, I looked on with pride and admiration, secretly imagining a life like this.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my Boo and his Alpha male ways! But I was so taken
by this gesture that I completely forgot about his overtly undomesticated ways-
what with his smelly socks everywhere and crusty dishes left unwashed or the open
toothpaste tube! In this moment, I just allowed myself to drift off with my
imagination in tow.
“Baby! Why haven’t you started heating up the oil?”
And
that right there woke me up from my dream. As the newly appointed Head Chef, I obediently
proceeded to heat up olive oil in a pot. We chatted away as we waited for the
temperatures to soar; all the while I was trying not to focus on the fact that
our dinner menu comprised of only chips and sadly- no meat?! And YEAH vegies!
However I decided to just go with the flow, lest I irritate the Sous Chef and force
him to forgo my fantasy altogether- chips it was!
When finally the oil seemed hot, an odd 20 minutes later, he
threw in the chips and we waited in anticipation. Hmmm… The chips didn't sizzle.
In fact they looked more like boiling potato wedges. After years of making
chips I could not figure out why my chips, at maximum heat, were acting a fool?
Much to my dismay, my Boo looked dejected. Arggghh! Nooooo! This can’t be so.
If I didn't know better I would declare it sabotage. Unknown to me, this was
indeed a case of self-sabotage. You see my friends, it turns out Olive Oil has
a lower heating ability than regular Vegetable Oil.
 |
| Dreadlocks, Hips and All |
The short end of the story
is that we ate soggy, oily potatoes- with no meat, my Boo has NEVER offered to
cook again, and me? Well I guess I now know the difference between Olive and
Vegetable Oils!!!
