Earlier this week, at my husband's request, I attempted to cook a ham and bean soup in our new crockpot. The problem, which I pointed out from the start, was that the recipe wasn't made for a slow cooker but the stovetop. My husband said to just put the crockpot on high and add an hour or so to the cooking times. I followed his advice, but when it was time to eat, the soup wasn't nearly done. The onions were still crunchy and the beans hard.
I called him in what I admit was a foul mood to complain about the ruined dinner and to basically say "I told you this wouldn't work." He told me to calm down and make the kids soup and sandwiches before heading out to a board meeting for my daughter's preschool.
During a short break at the board meeting I checked my iPhone and saw an email from my husband, who had by that point arrived home and relieved the babysitter. Now, I don't normally share personal correspondence from my husband, but seeing as I nearly spit out red wine over my fellow board members, I can't resist.
"The problem is that you had the crockpot set to low. I tried to explain this to you -- I tried to get you to calm down so I could explain this to you, but I guess you didn't hear me. You have to stop thinking of cooking like a test and more like [having sex] -- it's something you do with people you love; doing it fulfills a basic human need; the more you do it, the better you get at it; and even if it's bad, it's still pretty good, and there's not many other better ways to spend your time."
Ahem ... Doesn't my husband have a way with, um, words?
Oh, and I should note that I DID have the crockpot set to high initially but had switched it to low before leaving for my meeting. Still, I'm glad I did switch it to low, just do I could read that email, which is the reason I spent the rest of the meeting blushing. Thank God for the glass of wine as a cover story!