Hubby Stew

“Who’s feeling brave?”

This is one of Hubby’s calls that makes everyone else in the house cringe. Especially when he’s standing in the kitchen. And definitely when he’s standing in the kitchen the afternoon after we discussed our small garden is producing more than expected. We’ve shared with neighbors and still have a surplus. I love yellow squash, or I used to. Little tired of it now. We carved boats out of zucchini and floated them down the little canal that winds through the neighborhood. They sort of got stuck in the pond, in the middle. Bet the seagulls were happy, but I didn’t hang around to find out.

Back to bravery. The Girl looked at me and shook her head. The Boy is sequestered in his room either playing video games or recovering from marathon video gaming. He’ll show his face in the kitchen in a couple of hours, so he was off the hook. For now.

“Sure, I’m feeling brave!” I answered. No one would, I needed to offer my support.

Wandering into the kitchen, I saw Hubby had made a chunky vegetable soup. Lovely. I saw my tomatoes, bits of squash – still firm from the look of it, onions, and cabbage. Hmm. Usually there’s a bit more to it, but hey, roll with it.

“Looks good, honey. What is it?”

“Cabbage and herring soup.”

“Cabbage and what?”

“Herring. The kids like fish soup, remember?”

From five years ago? Yes I do. I also remember it had tilapia in it.

“Sure. But herring?”

“I have little cans of it.”

“I know.” I wanted to remind him I know because he’s not allowed to eat it around me. The smell of sardines or herring makes me sick.  But that would be criticizing the culinary masterpiece simmering on the stove.

“They’re not pickled, they’re packed in oil. Besides, I broke them up so there’s just little flecks.”

Great, so I can’t pick them out.

“Grab a bowl, give it a try.”

I chose the smallest bowl we have. “I’m not really hungry, but let’s give it a shot.”

I gave it a shot. I tried a little sip of broth.

“You don’t have to think of what to say, I can tell by the look on your face,” Hubby said.

I tried again. Picking around little bits of (I assume) herring, I pulled out a piece of cabbage.

“The cabbage has a good texture.”

He took the bowl from me and turned to the freezer. “You were very brave. Here’s your reward.”

I returned to girl-time with my daughter with an ice cream bar. She wasn’t brave so she didn’t get one. It’s important for children to learn these important lessons.