Food

One of the many things that Rosalie likes to keep herself occupied with down here is making food. She loves it and works at it constantly.

We smuggled her instant pot into the country in one of our large suitcases and I’ve regretted it ever since. She makes some fabulous food but once in a while…not so much.

In the pot, she makes things like yogurt, bread, ribs, chocolate cheesecake, hard-boiled eggs and lots more. I found out that you can even make wine in the thing but we haven’t tried that yet. But I’m sure we will eventually.

How do you tell the woman you love that her latest creation tastes like a roadkill iguana boiled in motor oil. It’s a tricky scenario. When you taste something really great and say so it’s greeted with “yea so. What did you expect? However, just mention that it could do with an extra hour of cooking and all hell breaks out. And for god’s sake don’t mention that it needs more salt. I did one day and have lived to regret it ever since.

Rosalie has been on a bread-making kick for the last few weeks and mostly it’s great. However, I’m trying to not eat so much bread so I’m walking the fine line between saying it’s great and having it every day and not eating it and suffering that stony silence that you know will be held against you for the next several years.

Rosalie is a great cook,  when she nails it she really nails it. My problem is that I grew up on a diet of fried foods and am used to that. Fish and chips, egg and chips, sausage and chips, and anything else and chips. So our cultural cuisines often clash. When I say often I mean constantly.

I try to adapt to North American cuisine and I think I’ve done a not too bad of a job. I do eat a hamburger once in a while and have a side of fries. Not the quality of fries that I’d get in England but fries none the less.

I’ve found that the potatoes here in Mexico are on par with our English ones and the fries and boiled spuds are awsome. I give Rosalie credit for this as I need all the cuisine points that I can get.

Even our breakfasts are a challenge. If I cook bacon and eggs, she likes her eggs mashed, bashed and beaten and her bacon crispy. I, on the other hand like my eggs gently turned so they are evenly cooked and my bacon not crisp.

Whenever I cook Rosalie loves just about everything I do. I like that. So how can I criticize her cooking? I tried to explain it like this; an East Indian is raised with curries and everything that goes with it, but maybe hates clam chowder. (Rosalie’s is the best). I was raised on all that fried food so tend to lean in that direction. We have to compromise and we do.

We have adapted to each other over the years and we now eat the same foods whether I like it or not.