HAH! In surfing the other day-in-the-life-of-a-parent blogs, I see my gender is not the only thing that sets me apart. As much as I should watch cooking shows, I just don't. I'm more of a History Channel guy and that means my cullinary repertoire is shamefully limited. Not that I'm a complete Bozo in the kitchen (and like most members of my gender, I'm a Master of the Grill) but I really could use some of the pointers offered on those shows. Unfortunately, the Y chromosome kicks in when I reach for the remote and given the choice between Thai Chicken and Big Guns of World War II, the Big Guns win.
However, with my kids, a huge presentation of dinner is received with complete apathy at least, total revulsion at worst. I can go to great lengths with a meal and when it hits the table the inevitable reaction is, "And we're supposed to do WHAT with this? We wanted HOT DOGS!" You can see the futility, here.
"Eat it!" I growl and the battle of wills begins - and ends with me eating Thai Chicken the rest of the week while they inhale the staple of weenies, mac & cheese, and chicken nuggets. So until my brood develops a taste for dinner-time adventure, Emiril loses out to Eisenhower.