This is not my favorite question, the question of whether or not I cook Korean cuisine for my husband. After we were married, it was the #1 question asked of me as a new bridey mchousewife. No ethnicity, sex, gender, age was exempt among the askers of this particular interrogative. Do you cook Korean for your husband, asked the well-meaning people who were probably sincerely interested to know how my backyard burial of the fermented cabbage was going. Seriously, though. Oh. My. Kimchee. Did that question get old.
For starters, the obvious. Much as my beautiful black hair and almond shaped eyes and ivory skin betray me--you know I'm not the Korean one in this equation, right? Why would you not ask Loverpants if he cooks Korean for his Irish-Italian wife?
For seconds, really? That's what you ask a woman in the year 2000 and something? What kind of a short order cook for her man is she? I mean, women can vote and earn a PhD and buy stock but the first question out of the gate is what she's got on the stovetop these days?
For thirds, what if I --perish the thought--DON'T cook Korean food for Loverpants. What if I chef up every manner of Asian delicacy but Korean is just not in the repertoire OH SWEET MOTHER WHAT THEN!?!
Of course, the above responses were not seasoned with salt. Nary would they pass through my lips. Lord, have mercy on Thy servant and her fallen thoughts.
Still. Couldn't help but get annoyed from time to time....
*** Last night I stood in front of the stovetop stirring quinoa, excited to put it and some veggie medley into egg roll wraps and fry them up real nice and Korean mama like.
The plate was piled high with my clumsily filled egg roll invention.
I started to fry and samples one and two were perfect! Brought all the kids to the yard.
And then after the third one, they all started to unravel. Droplets of fry grease spattered the air and my arms and OW WHAHHH WHYYYYYY??
I asked my Korean mister where was the fault line in my egg roll construction?
He said, graciously, it was possibly the fact that I had stuffed my egg rolls like they were burritos. Or cannoli. Might be why they are busting at the seams.
So, not willing to pay my full penance for Not Cooking Korean for My Husband all these years, I did what every good ethnically Western European gal would do.
I took that quinoa egg roll smattering, threw it in a pyrex dish, topped it with swiss cheese, baked it at 375 for an hour and made quinoa egg roll lasagna casserole thing.
And it was good. Even my Korean husband said so.