by Karen Crumley

Created on: March 05, 2009

First of all, you have to understand that my mother's idea of cooking was to pop a TV dinner into the oven. Next, you have to understand that I was a premed student in college. That said, it should be plainly obvious that I did not know how to cook.

My husband did not have a clue that I did not know how to cook when we got married. He assumed that, because I could bake, I could also cook...and I never even thought of destroying his happy little picture. I figured I could learn as I went along. With all my lab experience, I should be able to follow simple directions.

Of course, the people who knew me and my mother knew I could not cook, so they very carefully filled out little index cards with their favorite cooking hints on them for my wedding shower. Being a student, I did what I knew how to do... I studied them. So, I figured that I was ready for married life and cooking.

The first morning we were in our little apartment together, I decided to try to impress my husband by making him breakfast in bed. He sat in the bed, awaiting his wonderful meal. In the meantime, I wandered into the kitchen and began a form of exploration. I was going to make bacon and eggs. It sounded simple enough. I knew to crack the eggs...that part was good. I got the eggs into the pan and they actually looked like what I thought they should. Two little yellow eyes stared up at me in what I took to be a form of congratulations. All I had to do was turn on the heat.

That done, I turned my attentions to the bacon. Now, my friends had filled out the index cards with cooking hints and I had studied for this test. One of the cards said that you should always start pork with a little grease. The problem was that I was a science major and I had worked very hard to perfect measurement in the lab. The term "a little grease" was not quantitative enough for me. Rather than mess this up, I decided to consult the resident expert on cooking, so I went into to the bedroom to ask my new husband.

"James, how much grease do you put into the bacon?"

For some odd reason, he began a rather panicky howl.

"I'm going to starve!"

That was the beginning of the lessons. He decided to teach me to cook rather than do it all himself. And, I was a quick learner....except for the gravy. You see, I have always been very literal.

Every time we had meat, he wanted gravy. I asked how to make it.

"Take the meat out of the pan. Add milk, salt, pepper and flour to the pan drippings."

And that was exactly what I did. And, every time I made gravy, he complained.

"UGH! What did you do wrong?"

"I don't know...I did exactly what you told me."

This went on for a few months. He began to think that he might just have to cook the gravy. Then, in desperation, he began to quiz me further.

"OK, you put the milk, salt, pepper and flour in the pan, right?"

"Yep! Just like you said."

He scratched his head.

"Well, how long did you cook it?"

"Cook it? I'm supposed to cook it? Why didn't you say so?"

Some of you may be feeling really sorry for my husband by now. We have been married for thirty-five years. Just taking one look at my husband will tell you that he did not starve to death. And, believe me, I have had to put up with just as much stuff from him as I ever gave him....but, that is another story.

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