I've been cooking since I was 8 and, at that time, I cooked to feed my siblings. They didn't seem too picky and were desirous of volume over quality.
When I married the first time, my then husband thought himself a gourmand, which I suppose he was...in a way. He preferred to eat rather than to cook so cooking was left up to me. Except for onions in any form, the sky was the limit with him. He even had issues with onion powder. Sheesh! How does it go...first, chop an onion! Oh, well.
Then I married Buck. He was like the all-food channel, all the time. He loved to eat; loved to cook; loved to talk about food; enjoyed food shows on TV. You name it.
We spent many hours as a team in the kitchen in our 32 years together. Most of the time he acted as my sous chef and loved it. He would eat just about anything, prepared any way.
Now, there's Glenn. He's not a kitchen kind of guy and prefers to leave that domain to me. He excels in eating what I produce. He has definite "no" items but those are few, so we have been eating quite happily. He says I've been trying to kill him with food. Nah! The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right?
I introduced him to Cornish game hens and he often asks if we can have "those little birds" for dinner. No problem. Happy to oblige.