Hubby in the Kitchen

“What dessert shall I make for tonight?” I innocently said to my husband before our friends came over a few weeks ago.

As I pretended to contemplate the options…cake, cookie bar, blah blah blah,…he remained engrossed in reading. So then I pulled out the stops. “Maybe I’ll make an apple pie.”

He instantly looked up and got that gleam in his eye that only those two words can conjure.

My husband loves making apple pie. Baking pie to him is what running a marathon is to other people–a challenge, a competition to outdo his previous work, a science experiment, and a race in efficiency. It also reminds him of his dad, a fabulous baker…who like his son, adored kitchen gadgets.

The spaceship has landed!

“I can make the pie,” hubby said.

Yes! I did a secret fist pump and checked that task off my list.

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was abuzz. “Can I help peel the apples?” I asked.

“I think you should just stay out of the way,” he said, not unkindly.

No problemo, I said, backing away. But not before I saw the fancy gadgets he’d assembled.

One was a gleaming little machine that peeled apples–actually, it did nine of them in five minutes. And left the peels in one long string. I could’ve made apple noodles out of them.

My grandma’s tried and true masher.

The other looked like a bright orange alien space ship had landed on our counter. Something called a Dynacube, that chopped all the apples into perfect little square pieces, again, in the blink of an eye.

For my hubby, baking is a chemistry experiment and it’s all about creating the best product in the least amount of time…which in my opinion, sometimes also leaves the most amount of dishes, but hey, as long as he washes the gadgets, I’m okay with helping out.

I am an anti-gadget, take-your-time kind of cook. I’m the person who shuns the salad spinner because it makes three extra dishes to wash and it takes too much time to pick all the leftover lettuce pieces out of the holes.

Mr. Liasson and his biceps…oops, I mean pie.

I’m the one who loves my grandmother’s eighty-year-old potato masher, the most sturdy and solid masher I’ve ever seen, which I still use to this day. No cords, no assembly needed.

Gadgets or no, the pie was spectacular. And the entertainment along the way was priceless. And hey, there’s nothing sexier than having a guy with big biceps make pie for you!