Way back in the day when I was a hostile and judgmental vegetarian I made some good dishes using tofu and tempeh. I gave this up when I started my love affair with pork. So, I guess being reminiscent for the 1990s or a 33-inch waist I started to crave my semi-famous grilled tofu and veggie scramble. Yummo.
The free dinners started on Monday night, when I brought up my urge to connect to our vegetarian roots.
“You shouldn’t have to cook tonight. Let me take you to Famous Dave’s Barbeque for some ribs.” The carnivore of the house suggested with love and concern in his voice.
Tuesday and Wednesday where the same. When I again expressed the urge to make the block of neglected soybean curd into a gourmet explosion I was met with a look of exhaustion and disgust.
“Really? Haven’t I suffered enough with compact florescent light bulbs in the dining room chandelier and making us go for bike rides all the time? Can’t we just go get Mexican?
It’s Sunday night, the carnivore is happily teaching a class tonight and I just settled down for…… Well, I made scrambled tofu and veggie stir-fry. It was awful. Horrible. So I tossed it and I’m now eating Taco bell. But, don’t tell the carnivore.