Most people probably wouldn't look at Mark and automatically assume he's a cook. And he probably wouldn't call himself one, but I must proclaim to all the world that he has a gift. I think this gift involves spatulas. I'm telling you, anything he touches with a spatula turns to gold. Mark has been making pancakes with our kids on Saturdays mornings since they were old enough to stand on a stool. But it's his omelettes that have so impressed me over the years. I've been making my own omelettes since I was a kid, but once we'got married and Mark made me that first omelette years ago, I don't bother to make my own anymore. I don't know what he does to make them so perfect, and I think I've decided I don't want to know. I love cooking, but it's kind of fun that his are so much more yummo. The really cool thing is that he seems to have so much fun making them that he doesn't mind if I randomly ask for one. This weekend the spatula gift was confirmed. I was sick with a knock-me-over kind of cold and no food sounded good to me except for mild things like soup or english muffins. Mark made me the most delactable grilled cheese of my life. It wasn't anything fancy--plain white bread, one slice of american cheese--so I don't know why it tasted so good. I guess I'm just chalking it up to my husband's gift.
2 years ago