Not that it should surprise too many people. Most of us grow up with the identity equation,
I grew up in a two-family house with four generations of females cooking and baking, and countless arguments any time my dad - trained to cook by his (by then long-dead) professional-chef father - took over Mom’s kitchen to cook châteaubriand or beef stew or the best hash this side of… ever…
Then there was the cooperative-cooking dorm at university, where the political clout was towards what we then knew as “health food freaks”. Cook dinner for 30? No problem, as long as I have large enough pans and a big enough oven (or two)! Bake bread? Whole wheat, whole-grain rye, or maybe let’s try something exotic like a mixture of whole wheat, cracked wheat, millet, barley, and soy flour…
In short, I’m not afraid of the kitchen and I’m not afraid of any (potentially-Kosher) ingredient… except maybe Crisco, aka “solid trans fats”. Diabetes and hypertension are excuses to eat whole foods of good quality, flavorfully-prepared, in moderate quantities. In short, excuses to have fun in the kitchen.
I think The Other Half had his nose buried in the computer the year his parents tried to teach him Bachelor Cooking 101. Until he was told he was “borderline” – actually, until my diagnoses, his idea of cooking was (pick up phone, dial, wait for response)“Hello, Domino’s? I’d like…”
Should I mention he’s lived his entire life on the “typical American Male Diet”? Steak, fried shrimp, barbecue, pasta, pizza, and takeout Chinese. If it looks like a vegetable other than potatoes, carrots, or corn, it’s the Devil’s work. Ditto for any fruit other than pineapples, oranges, or Clementines.
You can lead a horse to water…
Diagnosis and a script for Metformin has changed the quantity, not the quality, of what he will eat. So, to insure domestic tranquility, it’s either a compromise towards the less-healthy, or two different meals, or sometimes, both.
Which is why he is having beef meatloaf for dinner tonight, and I am having vegan chili.