Why didn't I just make PBJ?
The first time my husband-to-be came to visit me, I was looking after my sister's family's house while she they were away. He arrived in the morning, and we talked and played records and were having a grand time getting to know each other. However, it began to get close to lunch, and I began to feel a bit panicky that I'd have to offer some food. I had no idea what to offer and no confidence whatsoever. This was in South Africa, and nobody really goes in for tinned/canned pre-prepared food, but I had been in the US for years, and it was the first thought I had (maybe my sister has a tin of spaghetti-os or something?). I began to wish he would just go home. Eventually, I could ignore our grumbling stomachs no more, and I made a feeble offer of lunch, by now desperately hoping he'd say no, but he didn't....I fished around in her cupboards, no tins. I looked deeper, moving to a storage pantry not even in the kitchen. At the back, behind Christmas things on a dark shelf, dusty with age, one lone tin of ravioli sat waiting. (you have no idea how unusual this was, for my sister/family, at the time! in retrospect I'm guessing that tin must have been there for years). Thank goodness. With relief, I opened it up, and poured the contents into a dish. A good inch of reddish oil was on top of some dubious looking raviolis. Even I could see it didn't look right. But, I pressed on. Poured off the oil, found and grated some cheddar to sprinkle on top to disguise it a bit, and stuck it in the oven under the broiler. Sliced and buttered some bread, poured out some cold milk, set the table, seated new boyfriend. Fetched the ravioli. Brought to table. His eyes widened in horror when I set it down. Ok, I know it's bad, I'm thinking, but not that bad. What's he looking at? I looked down to where his eyes were fixed, and there in the center of the cheese was a fly, kicking it's leg in the last throes of death. Gallantly, soon2bDH fished it out, dished up a heaping plate full and proceeded to eat. Personally, I just stuck with a slice of bread and some milk. Finally, the meal was over and he left. That night he was sick, and for about three weeks after, every time he saw me, he'd get sick. I'm amazed we made it past the first date. -Sandy