Chef Jeff

Around our house, I do most of the cooking, and when I say most, I mean all of the cooking. Jeffrey makes a wonderful sous chef-he helps me prep the food, touches meat that I don't want to, and watches things as they boil or stirs pots to make sure nothing burns. Oh and he's very good at chopping onions,especially since just the sight of an onion sends my sensitive peepers into a fit of waterworks. Other than that, I must say that he is an amazing grill master, so I suppose it was unfair of me to say that I do everything.

Jeffrey can also do this:

{mutilated, once burned grilled cheese}

Sunday afternoons and on the occasional weekday, Jeffrey makes for me a delightful grilled cheese sandwich. However, I suspect that Jeffrey has been taking grilled cheese classes from the school of my mother, because his sandwiches have turned into my mother's notorious "Never-know-what-you're-gonna-get Grilled Cheese". This sandwich was black on one side and brown on the other, and for reasons beyond reason, rather than making a new one, Jeffrey scraped off the charcoalized bits and slapped it on my plate (I Love Lucy, Season 4-The Matchmaker, anyone? That dance she does when she scrapes the blackened toast makes my sides ache!).

But who knows, next time I may get a perfectly crispy, golden grilled cheese. So I open my mouth and put that cheese right in, because I'm also glad that I didn't have to cook it myself and so glad that Jeffrey loves me enough to slap on an apron and cook every now and then.