What’s On The Menu?

She takes the piss out of me for any number of things – but her greatest source of ammunition is food. In restaurants, she thinks it’s adorable that I don’t have the guts to go for the proper Mexican or Italian pronunciation and have to resort to pointing and awkward gestures. She thinks that it’s hilarious that I always order the wrong thing and spend the evening with food envy (and wine that I didn’t want having given up on trying to say cabernet sauvignon). At home, when it’s my turn to cook, it only takes her a few attempts to guess what we’re having. I have a limited repertoire (apparently). I try and mix it up but I’m only good at certain things. She doesn’t mind jacket potatoes, spag bol or steak every other day though; she says it’s comforting and lovely. I only get a smile when I suggest “much like me”.

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