Hunter Man cooks
Hunter Man shot a wild turkey.
"When can we eat it?" he asked, thinking it would be that night.
To me, it just isn't turkey without filling. I was in no mood to make filling and eat at 10 p.m.
My suggestion of freezing it met with some displeasure.
"Yeah. Then we'll forget about it and three years later I'll have to throw it out because it's freezer burnt," was his reply.
I proceeded to give him a run down of the next few nights to show him making the turkey was not an option.
"OK. We'll make it on Sunday," he said with finality.
"Whoa. What's this 'We' thing? Sunday is Mother's Day. I really wasn't planning on spending my day in the kitchen."
"No problem. I'll make dinner," he gallantly offered.
"You? Make the Mother's Day dinner? For me, my mom, my sister and the whole family?" I scoffed.
"Sure. How hard could it be?"
This from the guy who only knows how to fry eggs and bacon and deerburgers.
For one tiny moment, I almost felt sorry for him.
"Well, Emeril, that turkey better at least come with homemade filling and a vegetable."
Thinking I got him there, he calmly said, "No problem."
"Where's your recipe for filling?" he asked.
Hah! Got him! I don't have a recipe. I just make it.
Then when I realized it was going to be more mental work for me to figure out amounts of ingredients, I handed him my copy of Mrs. Haney's Pennsylvania Dutch Cookbook and told him what page to find the recipe.
"But is it good? I want to make the best filling you guys ever had," he told me.
'Yeah well, good luck with that,' I thought smugly.
Next he decided he was going to make my special green bean casserole.
For a moment I thought about sabotaging him by leaving out the secret ingredients of white wine and swiss cheese so he'd end up with plain old green bean casserole but who'd lose out more on that deal (me because I love it) and decided against it.
He found a recipe to make wild turkey on the Internet that called for sausage stuffing.
"What do you think? Should I try it?" he asked.
I thought, 'Sure. Give yourself more work. Spend ALL the time you want in the kitchen. This'll teach you just what we gals go through on a regular basis.'
My response was, "Why I think that would be really delicious. You know how we all like to try new and different things."
For dessert, he did cop out and ordered an apple crumb and fruit tart from our new favorite local bakery in Brodheadsville, DeMarco's.
Saturday was spent preparing the shopping list and a good hour in the grocery store.
When we got back home, Kitchen Man made the filling and green bean casserole while I baked and decorated a cake for my niece's birthday party that night.
We even managed to not kill each other in the process. It was actually quite a nice compatible time with our favorite CDs playing in the background.
Sunday morning he kissed me and sent me off to church, ready to do battle.
After lunch, I called to see how he was coping.
"Everything's under control," he replied confidently.
Because it was Mother's Day and I believe moms should do what they like to do, we went shopping.
We browsed through Grapevine Antiques, visited Country Roots and finally moseyed our way back home.
OK. You're probably hoping there's a funny ending to this story. And I really kind of hoped there would have been. But I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you.
The dining room table was beautifully set with the good china, silverware, tablecloth with cloth napkins, soft music playing in the background. In the center was a vase of fresh flowers. He had called our daughter to ask her to bring them.
He carved the turkey, and all we had to do was help carry the dishes to the table.
Everything was absolutely delicious!
Do you know what the hit of the whole meal was?
The recipe he found on the Internet-the sausage stuffing made with apples.
He wouldn't let us lift a finger in the clean up, either.
I was so proud of him.
In retrospect, I don't think I was surprised. Harry is probably the most capable person I know. I don't think there is anything he couldn't do if he put his mind to it.
I often look at him and ask myself, "How did I get so lucky?"
Anyway, for all you men out there who did a wonderful and unselfish act for your wives and mothers on Mother's Day, thank you.
And for those of you who didn't, shame on you.
But, you've got a whole year to think about something special to do for the ladies in your life for next year. Do it. Because they'll think you're the best thing that's ever happened to them.
P.S. That night in bed, when I thanked him again for a wonderful dinner, he sighed and said, "It's a lot harder than it looks," rolled over and fell into an exhausted sleep.
I translated that into, "You da woman."
But on Mother's Day, he was da man.
Da Turkey Man.