The Way to a Man's Heart...

Otherwise known as, It's All Part of the Plan... 

Great Argentinian Dancer (GDA), my splendid, unexpected, and positively endearing new beau, had been feeling under the weather on Wednesday so I made him chicken soup with a grated ginger, sliced mushrooms, chopped garlic, and sliced spring onion base. Chicken stock, poached, then shredded chicken thighs, and a little rice and chopped carrot rounded out the soup.  It was good, if I do say so myself.  (Yes, I know pulling out the awesome cook card is incredibly unfair and just doesn't give the guy a chance.  Mwahahahaha... )  He's feeling better now... although his nose has been a bit stuffy of late.

I really like having someone to cook for again.  When I lived with Mom and Dad, I cooked at least three times a week.  When I moved in with Chuck-- my awesome roommate-- this summer, he thought he was getting a cook.  What neither of us counted on, though, was that my drive to do anything more in the kitchen than heat up a frozen pizza was completely diminished.  I was kind of burned out.  I've since realized though, the real reason:

My cooking is all about a demonstration of care for the people in my life who mean the most.  That's not to say I don't care for Chuck-- we have a great platonic, cohabitational relationship-- but I just don't get the push that I had with my parents (and now GDA) to cook.  Last week I had an event at work that lasted until 8:00.  Chuck was cooking steak when I came home, and offered me some.  At first I refused-- it was late for me to eat-- but I relented when the irresistible scent of cooked steak permeated the house.  It was too much for my stomach to take!  I had a half of a steak... and it was good.  I appreciated Chuck taking care of me when I needed it after such a long day at work. 

While GDA and I were having the chicken soup, he looked at me and explained a phrase they use in Argentina in regards to a woman cooking for a man.   I told him, We say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

He grinned that ten thousand megawatt smile.  Exactly, Jen. 

And somewhere Dr. Evil is putting his fingertips together... It's all part of the plan.