A Matter of Taste
It has often been said that in matters of the heart, opposites attract. That may be true for starry-eyed romantics who, despite their differences, still feel those youthful burning passions; but after more than twenty years of marriage, Elaine and George Sweeney's physical relationship had cooled considerably and now their disparate personalities were driving them further and further apart with each passing anniversary.
Elaine and George were different in many ways, one of which was politics. Elaine was a Democrat, a liberal who was in favor of equal rights for women, stricter gun control laws, socialized medicine, legalization of same-sex marriages and a woman's right to choose between giving birth and having an abortion. George, on the other hand, was a staunchly conservative Republican who believed in every American's right to own a firearm, the preservation of the sanctity of the family by only legally recognizing marriages between men and women, tighter restrictions on welfare, stricter immigration policies and anti-abortion laws. Needless to say, the couple had never voted for the same candidate.
The Sweeneys also differed in their tastes in reading material. For one thing, Elaine loved to bury her nose in a book. She devoured everything from classic literature to poetry, to popular novels. Meanwhile, George, who had not glanced at any volume or periodical thicker than the TV Guide since he graduated from high school, read only the daily newspaper and an assortment of sports and automobile magazines.
Also, like many American couples—young or old, married or single, wealthy or otherwise—Elaine and George differed greatly in their choice of Hollywood fare. Elaine enjoyed the old black-and-white classics, Broadway-based musicals, romances and mysteries as well as modern films with absorbing plots and minimal violence. Conversely, George liked "men's movies," those with plenty of fight scenes, car chases and four-letter words. For him, the more violence and big-breasted, half-dressed women, the better. He preferred actors like Steven Segal, Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jean-Claude Van Damme to Anthony Hopkins, Tom Hanks, Dustin Hoffman and Jack Nicholson. Also, to Elaine's consternation, he favored actresses like Pamela Anderson Lee and Anna Nicole Smith to Meryl Streep and Glen Close.
When it came to television, there, too, it was a matter of opposite tastes. Although Elaine occasionally enjoyed watching documentaries on PBS and the History Channel or a movie on one of the cable premium stations, most evenings she did not even bother to turn on the TV set. George, like most men, was the master of the remote control. He never missed watching New England Patriots football, Red Sox baseball, Celtics basketball or Bruins hockey. He also liked watching the occasional soccer match. Worst of all, as far as Elaine was concerned, was her husband's fondness for professional wrestling, euphemistically referred to as "sports entertainment." Although Elaine thought professional wrestling was hardly a sport and definitely not entertaining, George watched it faithfully. Whenever he turned on Raw or SmackDown, Elaine left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Yet the most serious difference of opinion between the husband and wife concerned their taste in food. George, like the long line of men branching off the trunk of the Sweeney family tree, was a die-hard meat and potatoes man. Give him a thick slab of ribs or a sixteen-ounce steak—preferably well-done and fatty—accompanied by a baked potato swimming in butter and buried in sour cream, and he was a happy man. For a quick lunch, George, who was obviously not concerned about his cholesterol level, liked to down double bacon cheeseburgers with super-sized orders of fries.
Elaine, who loved to cook almost as much as she loved to read, was always trying new low-fat and nutritious recipes that frequently featured lean chicken breast, fish, tofu and a large variety of fruits and vegetables. She also experimented with different cuisines, from exotic Indian, Thai and African dishes to the more popular Chinese, Italian and Mexican ones.
At first, George tried to hide the fact that he disliked his wife's cooking. More often than not, he merely picked at his dinner and then later devoured a thick roast beef sandwich smothered with mayonnaise as a late-night snack. However, he could not even feign interest when Elaine tried her hand at Mexican dishes. Preferring his food seasoned with nothing stronger than salt and black pepper, he disliked the hot spices and herbs his wife often used when dabbling in Mexican cooking. In fact, one night when Elaine served seafood burritos with a creamy cilantro sauce, George rudely pushed his plate away, got up and fried himself bacon and eggs.
Although her feelings were hurt by her husband's rude behavior, Elaine decided that it really was not worth getting into an argument over her choice of the dinner menu, so the following day she made one of George's favorite meals: pot roast with mashed potatoes and gravy. Her husband was delighted, and during the next few weeks, he dutifully ate the less-traditional meals his wife prepared. That is until she made chicken fajitas wrapped in tomato-basil tortillas and topped with melted Monterrey Jack cheese. Without a word to his wife, George picked up his plate, got up from the table, tossed the fajitas into the garbage pail, grabbed his car keys and drove to the nearby Burger King.
For weeks after that incident, George and Elaine barely spoke. Rather than waste her time preparing nutritious homemade meals only to have them thoughtlessly thrown away, Elaine bought herself Healthy Choice and Weight Watchers frozen dinners. For George, she fried pork chops, grilled steaks and baked meatloaves and hams. Accompanying these entrees, she served potatoes in every form: baked, mashed, boiled, fried and scalloped as well as a variety of fattening potato salads.
Still, the strained relationship between the Sweeneys did not improve. Night after night, George sat at the table reading his newspaper, consuming his fat- and cholesterol-laden food and completely ignoring Elaine.
* * *
As her husband's fiftieth birthday drew near, Elaine planned a small dinner party in the hopes of restoring harmony in their marriage. She invited their immediate family, their closest friends, co-workers and neighbors. A perfectionist, she spent days preparing an elegant and delicious buffet that included beef burgundy (guaranteed to please a die-hard meat and potatoes man), Cajun-style gumbo, vegetable lasagna, coconut shrimp and red pepper quesadillas with guacamole and Monterey Jack cheese.
George was pleasantly surprised by the party and was jovial and warm most of the evening. Then his wife proudly announced that dinner was ready. George, who had downed more than a few beers and shots of Jack Daniels that evening, walked into the dining room, took one look at the quesadillas and turned on his wife.
"You know I can't stand Mexican food. Why don't you cook normal American food like my mother does instead of all this foreign crap?" he screamed furiously. "Who did you think you are, anyway, Julia f---ing Childs?"
Elaine was so embarrassed that she wanted to crawl through the floor. The room had become quiet to the point that one could hear the proverbial pin drop. All the guests stood near the buffet, staring uneasily at George.
In the middle of the dining room table was Elaine's pièce de résistance: a three-tiered mousse with white chocolate-coconut, milk chocolate-maple and dark chocolate-hazelnut layers. George eyed the elaborate dessert, and knowing what a chocolate lover Elaine was, he picked it up and hurled it across the room. The crystal trifle dish smashed against the wall, leaving a stain that looked like an abstract painting in shades of chocolate.
Elaine apologized to her guests and urged them to help themselves to the buffet. The rest of the evening was strained and uncomfortable for everyone. The guests ate quickly, sang "Happy Birthday" and, taking their cake with them, left as soon as possible. Elaine did not bother to clean up the mess. Without saying goodnight to George, she went directly to bed.
* * *
The following day, after cleaning the house and removing all traces of the disastrous dinner party, Elaine spent the remainder of her time in the kitchen, preparing meals fit to please the most discriminating gourmet. With her food processor going nonstop, her blender working overtime and her paring and butcher knives both honed to a fine edge, Elaine sliced, diced, ground, chopped and shredded. Then she baked, broiled, boiled and sautéed mouth-watering dish after mouth-watering dish, putting the finished foods in plastic containers and storing them in her large-capacity chest freezer. Shortly after six in the evening, she finally finished, and the last Tupperware container was consigned to the deep freeze.
All her hard work plus the absence of breakfast and lunch had made her extremely hungry. She turned off the slow cooker and ladled a thick stew into her bowl. Chunks of meat were combined with sweet potatoes, black beans and a pinch of turmeric and cumin that added a nice spicy flavor. Elaine gingerly put a small piece of meat in her mouth to taste it.
Mmmm! Not bad, she thought, pleased with the result of her labors. It's tender and juicy and not too fatty.
She supposed she could—at least until her freezer was empty—get used to eating a steady meat and potato diet.
As she chewed her food with gusto, Elaine laughed at the irony of the situation: for a man with no taste in music, art, movies or books, George tasted surprisingly good.
Salem and I don't have any disagreements when it comes to food. He'll eat anything (and everything).
