with practice, i'm going to pat myself on the back and say that i've become a pretty good cook. still, every once in a while, i try a new recipe and it just well...it flops.
tonight was one of those nights.
it wasn't just "not great," it was straight up bad.
still, my husband gulped it down with a smile on his face and even "pretended" to get mad that i threw out the leftovers. i know that i married a human trash compactor but i like to tell myself that it's more than that. i believe he loves me so much that anything i cook for him tastes like a little slice of heaven even if, in my heart, i know that he forced his way through that meal as an exercise in solidarity (and to save himself from my impending breakdown).
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