Training 101

A momentous occasion in every trophy wife's life: her first dinner prepared and served completely on her own. It's a trial by fire (of the kitchen gas stove variety) filled with tears, panic, laughter, and triumph. This weekend, we have friends visiting - yes dears, it's our (read: his) never ending quest to merge both sets of acquaintances together into a homogenous bit of mush. I had planned for a simple roast chicken dinner with a pavlova for dessert. Have I ever made a pavlova before? Nah. But I've watched my greataunt make one, and the Infamous Ex made meringues look like child's play. How hard could this be?

Sidenote: the same day as said dinner, we also have my Civil War Reenacting tent to rewaterproof up on the peak, his errands to run, and kitchen recovery to attempt post-prep. Let's follow this, shall we?

1) attempt to wake up at 6. Yeah. That worked. Let's try 8?

2) debate over breakfast with BGRR the possibility of taking Charlotte (yes, I name my cars. Someday, I shall train him to name his too.) up the road to the peak to pitch and fix tent. Obviously, since the Camp's haywagon has problems going up, my little Civic will never be able to do it, right? "No, dear, I take her on hills all the time to unload at reenactments, this can't be any worse." "Honey, you'll rip the bottom out of your car.""No, I won't." "Yes, you will" Continue this argument in various forms for another 15 minutes, finally have Adoring Girlfriend say, "I'm taking it up anyways," get in car, and drive up without a single problem. No, delam, I'd never even think of saying I told you so. Set up tent, waterproof seams, and drive back downhill.

3) groceries and assorted errands. I left most of the dairy stuff as pickup out in Reading, merely for packing ease. Okay, fine, so it was really left in order for me to have a real excuse to be all housewife-y and be able to run errands with BGRR. I profess to getting a warm fuzzy housewife feeling when doing the simplest errands with him. Leave me alone. The big dilemma??? Frozen vrs Fresh strawberries. Note to self: ALWAYS cook with fresh fruit.

4) traditional banishment of BGRR from the kitchen. In my defense, I actually had him beat the meringue for a bit, but he was messing it up. So I banished him, and he disappears into his room to work on some shtuff, goodness knows what. Probably another method to take over the world, or solve world peace, or raise yaks in the city - none of which would surprise me, by the way. Since the oven's supposed to be lower for the meringue, it's best to start with that first. Now, when the recipe says "add sugar 1 tbsp at a time", it's obviously there for a reason. Seriously. LISTEN TO THE RECIPE. I don't, and about 45 minutes into beating this thing, it's got this lovely gloss, and it's considerably stiffer. But it's still not peaking.

Every trophy wife has a manual of procedure, and this would be about the time when I grab mine and start flipping through it frantically to the "What the Heck You Do When Things Aren't Working Like They're Supposed To" page, where it says in big, bold letters......

CALL YOUR MOTHER!

Well, it’s right there in the book! Call mom, who says, “I’ve never done meringue, call your greataunt.” Call greataunt, who sounds pleased as punch I’m cooking for my first dinner party and tosses out a few suggestions, including “if it doesn’t work, do am upside down cake. EVERYONE loves upside down cake.” Toss the thing in the oven, and 15 minutes later, her suggestion’s working. Sweetness.

5) clean kitchen and start on chicken. BGRR, in one of his bigger moments of wisdom, has gone out on campus with guests to show them about, and start closing things down for the night. Let me tell you, duckies, PAM olive oil spray is awesome. I love it dearly, and unless it’s really nice gourmet cooking, refuse to use anything else. Pull meringue out of oven and toss chickens in. Start to nervously watch clock for people coming back.

6) get through vegetables and potatoes, clean up some more. Pull out chicken, unwrap without burning self (BGRR's fingertips of steel are wonderful things), and set on table. Make gravy. Take to table, and then give men seated at table evil glare of doom so they stop waiting for you. In the grand scheme of things, BGRR's doing quite nicely! I've got him trained to start eating as soon as I put food on the table, irregardless of how long it takes me. Retreat to kitchen for one more round of cleaning, and then join for a quick bite.

7) clean off dining table, and then take meringue cake/pie/thing out with plates and spoons. Drop off on table while unaccustomed guests wonder what the heck you're doing and why you're not eating with them. Leave BGRR to make excuses and explanations. Wrap up dinner and leave for housemates to discover and finish later.

8) clean up (for the last time), ask BGRR to do dishes in the morning (because you've already done them 4 times), and crash horribly.

And that, my dearest readers, is Trophy Wife Practicum 101. Well, at least the 1-10 version.