Ian used to be a really good cook. And then he became a husband. Once married, it seems he completely forgot how.
With this in mind, when I go away, I try to make sure there is enough food for him to eat. But sometimes I get busy. Sometimes I forget to prepare things. Sometimes I figure I don’t need to worry since we live about 200 metres from a grocery shop and are within a 1km radius of at least 10 restaurants. That do takeaway.
However it seems that when I’m away, if Ian gets hungry, he finds it far easier to invent interesting concoctions of food rather than simply order takeaway.
One weekend I came home earlier than I was meant to. Ian had popped out for a bit. As I opened the door of the flat, I was overwhelmed by a smell, that to this day, is one of the worst I have ever experienced in my life. At first I thought it was a bunch of dill on the counter that had gone bad. Now admittedly, I was the one to have left the dill in a jar on the sink. However after a swift removal of said dill, I realised that the smell was still there.
And then I discovered it.
There on the counter was what seemed to be a bowl of multicoloured rice bubbles. After a fair bit of prodding, I was still unable to determine what was in the bowl. So I called E.
Seeing the house phone number on his mobile, sent poor husband into a spin. “Why are you home earrrlllyyy?,” he panicked. Well that was a relief. At least he wasn’t oblivious to the fact the house smelt rank, even if he did choose to live in the rankness.
I can’t remember exactly what my words were but if you take out the profanity, the world ‘bowl’ is probably what was left of the sentence. He knew what I was calling about anyway. And he explained with something close to pride that he’d made himself a ‘treat’. The recipe, dear friends, should you ever want to make it yourself, includes:
– 5 tablespoons of melted butter
– 1 cup of rice bubbles
– 2 tablespoons of hundreds and thousands.
Mix together, taste, spit out the first mouthful and leave the rest to go rancid until your partner comes home three effing days later.
Now this happened quite some time ago so I have always assumed it was a one off. However a few nights ago, Ian decided to further extend his foray into messing with breakfast cereals.
Feeling peckish, he perused the cupboard, selected his ingredients and this time, mixed together weetbix, tahini and date syrup. Why haven’t the great chefs of the world thought of this?
Once again, only one mouthful of this combo was consumed. This time though he disposed of his rubbish thoughtfully.
So friends, I ask a favour of you all. If anything untoward ever happens to me, will you please check in on Ian from time to time? Perhaps cook him a meal now and again or leave him with food parcels. Anything to avoid some kind of sugar induced coma from breakfast cereal combined with goodness knows what.
I thank you kindly in advance.