Dec 10 2010
Martin is blessed with many wonderful qualities and traits.
But a discerning palate isn’t one of them.
Sure, he’s consumed haute cuisine in fine French bistros. And sampled Norwegian fish dishes despite his distaste for aquatic-oriented cookery.
Frankly, he prefers uncomplicated, bland food, swimming in all-American condiments. He’s fostered a palate on par with most high school or college-aged kids.
And I knew this going into our relationship. Long before we married — before we dated — back when Martin was paid to pour drinks and I slung food and bussed tables, he invited me to a matinee movie. As the trailers rolled he deposited in my lap a tub of popcorn bathed in a buttery glow.
And then he dumped an entire box of Junior Mints into the mix.
That was a pretty good sneak-peek at Martin’s bizarre gustation.
And you’d think after 12 years of marriage that I’d know all his tricks. Still he manages to surprise me with questionably-edible concoctions that would make a teenager blanch.
Like this culinary ensemble, created Thursday night.
Yes folks, it’s kettle corn topped with ranch dressing and velvetta shells n’ cheese.
Matin whipped this up while I prattled on about my day at work. If he seeked a way to stun me into silence, he succeeded.
How does one devour such spectacularly strange vittles?
With a spoon of course. And a tumbler of lemonade.
I don’t think we’ll see this fine dish coming to a cooking show near you…