A few days ago, I sent Greg to the store without a list. It’s almost always a mistake to send him without a list, but every time I hope that he’ll take the initiative to look through our recipes and pick out a few. After this many years of marriage, I should know better.
The day after Greg’s trip, I assessed our fridge. I saw that he had bought hamburger buns to use with the ground bison we already had in the freezer.
“Greg, did you buy vegetables to go with the burgers?” I asked.
“I thought we already had tomatoes,” he said.
“Yeah, we do. I meant for a side dish,” I said. Greg furrowed his brow, but said nothing.
“You know, those things you put next to the burger on the plate so that when you get tired of eating red meat, you can have a bite of something green or yellow or orange,” I said.
“Why would you ever get tired of eating burgers?” Greg asked. I sighed. This was a lost cause.
“There’s some canned cranberry sauce in the pantry,” Greg said helpfully.
He’s a regular Julia Child, this one.