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It’s crazy.  Dallas doesn’t cook.  That’s always been my task.  (He makes bacon, because I hate getting splattered with grease, and grits, because I’m a Yankee and he is not, so obviously he’s the grits authority in our house.)  Now he has to cook–I’m about 4,700 miles away and going out to eat a lot would be prohibitively expensive, not to mention he has to take the tram to get into the city center because he lives some distance away.

He’s sticking with chicken, pasta, and vegetables for now, but he’s talking about doing some crazy stuff like making blueberry muffins so he can grab them and go get on the tram to class.  Here’s one meal he made for himself.  Here’s another.  I can’t wait for him to come home and cook for me!  He is pushing himself to become a really good cook–not just because it’s really in his best interests while he’s in Germany, but because he wants to come home and shock/impress me and his parents.  How nice is it to have a man who wants to cook for me?!  Extremely nice!

I hope his new-found interest in cooking will help him appreciate the time and work that goes into a good home-cooked meal, so maybe he’ll slow down a little and enjoy a meal I’ve been slaving over a hot stove to make once in a while.

Even if he continues to inhale everything I cook, I’m so proud of him for trying hard to learn something new.

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