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Posts Tagged ‘cooking’

Merple

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 10:30 AM
Wednesday, May 9, 2012

My husband and I have a pretty awesome arrangement when it comes to division of household labor.  He cooks, and I (usually) clean. He also gardens, by the way, which means not only do we have a beautiful backyard, we also have an edible back yard – tomatoes, peppers, artichokes, strawberries and lettuce keep happy company with our fig, grapefruit, loquat and lemon trees.

So what could ever go wrong in this veritable Eden of a home?

Sorry, did you not read what I wrote in the first paragraph? I USUALLY CLEAN.

Which, let me clarify, I am NOT complaining about. At the moment.

No, what I am complaining about right now is not cleaning per se – it is, quite specifically, cleaning a particular cutting board who for the sake of this blog I’ll just call “Merple.” (He doesn’t deserve a regular human name.) Merple sucks. He is gigantic, heavy, and doesn’t have a handle. His surface has deep grooves, which makes him extremely hard if not impossible to clean completely, especially after something tomato-y and oily has spilled on him.

Now take my favorite two cutting boards, Mavis:

Ain't she a cutie pie?

and Pearl:

Sweet as candy!

They are adorable! Lightweight, smooth, colorful, easy to use, easy to clean and of course they have handles. Neither Mavis nor Pearl has EVERY given me trouble.

Merple, on the other hand?

Of course my husband LOVES to use Merple.

Uses him any chance he gets – whether it’s to cut chicken, lettuce (no, not exactly in that order, I do know a few things about sanitary rules), chiles, lemons and anything else he can dig his knife into. Loves, loves, LOVES Merple.

Ergo, I get stuck cleaning Merple, just about every day. Often several times a day.

Yesterday, as I soaped and scrubbed Merple for like the 20th time, trying to erase the color orange from his belly, he slipped out of my grasp (no handle, remember?) and banged down on my finger, slamming it against the counter, hard. My fingertip STILL hurts today.

Merple.

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Asshole.

To Eat? Perchance to Cook, ay, There’s the Rub.

posted by Sheva 11:47 PM
Sunday, August 28, 2011

Let me start by saying I love food. And by that I mean, I love to eat.

LOVE.

TO EAT.

LOVE IT!!

So… it would be – if nothing else – practical, not to mention, a useful way to support my eating habit, if I also loved to cook. Not to mention feed any one or – hey, how about all! – of my three constantly-in-need-of-eating children and – hey, while we are at it, also my cute husband who, like me, likes to eat.

I wouldn’t use the word hate when it comes to cooking. I mean, I basically only hate things like having a bad flu, or having $70,000 stolen from me and all my jewelry too. And Hitler.

But cooking (when it’s me doing it, that is) isn’t too far behind those items either. In hate-itude.

Of course I LOVE cooking when it’s being done by my amazing cook of a husband. Don’t love doing dishes… but Jesus, who am I to complain, my husband just cooked me an amazing meal??!!

I love cooking when it’s being done by a restaurant. I love cooking when it’s being done by my next door may-as-well-be-a-chef neighbor, or my best friend Betsy (who actually is a chef), or my mother, or father, or basically ANYONE who is willing to put the time and effort into making me a meal. God bless you all.

When I told my girlfriend & mom of 2 little ones that my husband was out of town for two weeks and I took that opportunity to have a ME-cation, she really didn’t get it until she asked me if the nanny cooked for the kids, and I answered, “well, duh! What, was I going to cook for them while he’s out of town?” (“He” meaning my husband, who puts a lot of husbandly pressure on me to cook at regular intervals for the family so our kids will eat something other than fish sticks, chicken nuggets, scrambled eggs and cold cereal for dinner. Hard to fault him for that…)

Anyway, when I said that, a lightbulb went off in my friend’s head (whose husband has MUCH higher standards than any of my kids or husband and she actually meets those culinary standards 6 days a week). “Oh!” she cried, everything clicking into place. “You didn’t cook for two weeks! WOW!”

I could already hear the wheels turning in her head, plotting out her very own ME-cation for the upcoming weeks when her husband will be leaving town.

You go, girl! Now, excuse me while I go defrost some chicken.

Hahahahaha!!! Just kidding. String cheese time. Delish.

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

My greatest culinary accomplishment to date.

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