I have this secret talent, it’s a gift really. Well, it’s a talented gift and a curse in one. It rates somewhere between me turning into in ogre at midnight and having webbed toes.
Both of which, don’t sound appealing, but could be considered gifts if you’re optimistic enough. Especially if Dove hires you to star as “The Foot Model with Webbed Toes and a GREAT Personality” for their latest ad campaign for “Real Beauty.” (Dove… call me!) I’ve kept my curse hidden from loved ones ever since I discovered it myself. I’m really just protecting them. You know, for their safety and well-being. It’s dangerous to know what I know. It takes extreme self control and discipline to know what I know. However, I will recently share this devilish talent with Weston all because it is part of my Grand Plan!
My Grand Plan involves earning Weston’s total trust in the kitchen.
Luckily, it just so happens that I know how to make the most delicious recipe in the entire universe! It involves a hearty helping of hot oatmeal, copious quantities of brown sugar, an ample amount of ice cream, and a lavish lump of peanut butter. Basically, me knowing this secret recipe equates to being the only person on the planet who knows how to make a glazed Krispy Kreme donut and having the keen ability to bake one up at the drop of a hat. It is that good and dangerous! Sometimes it is all I can do to keep myself from cooking a gigantic vat of oats, surrounding myself with all the other necessary ingredients and letting myself succumb to the great pleasure that is, “The Oatmeal Sundae Coma” If this secret talent of mine was common knowledge among my friends and relatives, I would surely have those with lesser willpower camped outside my house daily begging me to bestow upon them this sweet treat. They would all weigh 400 pounds because I’m such a softy and would make it for them; even though I’d say, “This is your LAST ONE! Go live your lives people!”
Weston’s mom is an amazing cook. The time she spends in her kitchen to put a nice dinner on the table for her family is something to be admired. Which is why I have recently decided to share my luscious curse with Weston. I feel that once he falls in love with the few impossibly delicious recipes that I know, his heart and faith in my cooking would be mine and I can “enhance” my recipes at will. Getting Weston to try my new recipes (some with strange but healthy substitutions) may be difficult for him, but as long as I can whip out a bad ass recipe like this every now and then, he might not notice when I casually swap out butter for northern beans, add spinach to his smoothie, or care nearly as much when we get in lima bean omelet ruts. While we’re at college, dinner may be just the zany creations of an “inventive” dietetics student. They may be a little less extravagant and a little more redundant, compared to the ones that he is accustom to; which usually involve several side dishes and ever-changing entrees. Hopefully his faith in my cooking potential will not falter in the mist of my little cooking experiments. He won’t exclaim, “This has what!? What the Hell’s a chia seed? Do I look like a bird to you?” Maybe if I share with him my secret recipe curse I’ll be one step closer to my Grand Plan.