Of course, I quickly realized the importance of my marriage vows, especially the for better or worse part. I'm especially thankful my wife has embraced these words because otherwise I would have been kicked to the curb long ago. If you're a regular reader of this blog, you know that my wife fully accepts all of my foibles, quirks, and sporadic acts of stupidity.
A lot of newlyweds don't realize that this for better or worse part extends to the kitchen table. In fact, I firmly believe that wedding vows should be revised to address the culinary obligations of spouses. For example, my vows might include the following:
- Even though the smell naseates me, I promise to make my wife sauerkraut pizza. Even though I believe tomato juice ruins a beer, I will keep the refrigerator stocked with it, so my wife can enjoy a red beer after a hard day of work. I also promise to indulge my wife's irrational love of beets.
My wife's vows might include the following:
- I promise to not grimace when my husband stuffs himself with fried chicken livers and gizzards. When he refuses to eat pancakes for breakfast, I'll fix him his own personal frittata. I will not grab my husband by the throat when he insists to stop at every road side produce stand and ramshackle bbq joint we encounter on the road. Sometimes I'll even permit him to stop.
Early in our relationship, my wife prepared me breakfast. She asked me, "Would you like sausage with your eggs?" This question conjured visions of sausage links or patties, so I heartily answered, "Yes, that would be great!"
When my breakfast plate arrived, I spied no sausage. What I saw was a gnarled bologna-like disc. "What is this?" I asked.
"It's boiled summer sausage,"
"Who boils summer sausage?" I asked.
"Growing up we always ate this for breakfast," my wife answered.
I love summer sausage with some cheese and crackers, but I was slightly appalled at the notion of taking a perfectly good sausage and
boiling it.That might be the way they do things in Nebraska, but in Kansas our breakfast sausages are fried, and we save the summer sausage for cheese and crackers. I couldn't even bring myself to take a picture of the boiled sausage for this post. I have my standards.
PS. . . For the record, Nebraskans do make better sausages and wieners that Kansans. Those Czech immigrants know their sausage.