Surprise, another post about food.
So today for lunch I just ate a DELICIOUS pork chop and some potatoes and carrots leftover from yesterday. I just threw a whole bunch of stuff in the crock pot and let it cook while we were at church. That crock pot is is a magical little machine, always turning out better things than I put into it. My mom always used the crock pot on Sundays and now my Sunday seems sad if I don’t plug that baby in and put it to work.
Here is where things get complicated. There are only so many things you can put into a crock pot. My husband, still Beardy Jazz, does not like potatoes. He will lie to me and say, “I don’t HATE potatoes, they just aren’t my favorite.” He will play with his potatoes on his plate until they form a mountainous volcano and then make lava out of ketchup. He will also trick me into thinking that he has eaten them, but he has only stuffed them into a roll- out of sight, out of mind.
WHAT AMERICAN MAN DOES NOT LIKE POTATOES? This was not something I knew before our nuptials, he kept it a nice little secret until I was in charge of making dinner nightly. After about two weeks of choking down my potato sides, he finally confessed that he would rather eat dryer lint than force another meal of potatoes.
I tried everything. Baked and loaded, mashed, mashed with garlic, cheesy mashed, twice baked, funeral potatoes, you name it. He will kindly eat a few bites and then rearrange them to look like Mount Rushmore.
Funny, I don’t have to ask him to finish his salad, or the green beans, or any vegetable for that matter. Just the carb-loaded deliciousness of a potato. I still cook the occasional potato- mostly just for me because they are so yummy (and again omg seriously how can you not like them) but we tend to make a lot of rice in our kitchen.
Don’t tell him that french fries are actually potatoes, he will be ruined.