What happens when the love of your life refuses to try anything with mustard, frisee lettuce, beans, green vegetables or tomatoes in it? Where does a woman, who loves to try new foods, who loves to cook and learn new skills in the kitchen go when her husband will only eat the same eight meals over and over? When her man would rather throw a frozen pizza in the oven and head on over to the couch to wait for the timer to ding? When the only cheese he’ll put in his mouth is American or Cheddar, the only bread, white or crusty Italian?
And worse, when your perfect children watch their hero, their killer of spiders – the guy who can fix anything- shrink from the broccoli on the table?
I’ll tell you what she’s done. Time and time again, she has cooked the meal she knows he’ll eat and put the kids’ chicken nuggets in the oven alongside the carrots (orange, not green, and so, acceptable) and potatoes for him. She’s chopped up rainbows of raw veggies for the kids to pick over. And, finally, she has sat at the dinner table with gratitude in her heart for her wonderful, quirky family and with a furrow in her brow for the many recipes out there she might never get to try.
But, one day she realizes that she has a small window of time between dropping off the kids at school and picking them up. She has a small moment of solitude in the afternoon when her husband is at work and she is left all alone. And then it hits her! Wham! She’s pulls her dusty cookbooks and recipe box down off the shelf and decides she will use this time to create wonderful meals for herself. And who has to know? These are private moments she indulges in and keeps them all to her self.
Until now, until Mangoes and Mojitos.