The fine art of cooking for a man

Of course I was nervous to cook him a meal. I can’t really cook that well (fish excluded). I’ve always been healthy about what I eat, choosing low fat over taste. So I decided to stick with something I knew—fish.

My mom called me at 8am that morning to a) secretly see if I was being lazy and sleeping in; and b) inquire about my week. I told her about my menu for the dinner date, fish, quinoa, and salad, and she nearly lost her mind. “NO!! You cannot cook fish for a man, or anything healthy for that matter. Men eat meat! Make him succulent ribs so that you can make eye contact as you suck the meat off the bones. God! Fish! Really? What were you thinking? Grab a pen and some paper and write this down…”

I spent 40 minutes on the phone with my mom as I nursed my coffee in bed and jotted down notes. When we got of the phone I was overwhelmed. How am I going to make ribs? I haven’t eaten, let alone cooked red meat in a decade.

Just then, my phone rang and it was my aunt Erin, calling to see if I had her sandals she had left at our cottage. I didn’t. I started talking with her about how funny my mom was (her older sister) when she abruptly cut me off. “I’ll come get you now. Get dressed. Let’s go and pick up all the ingredients you’ll need to make a meal. I know just the places.”

We drove together to Bayview and Eglington and she introduced me to shop owners while we picked up cheese, baguette, red wine, ripe field tomatoes, basil, sea salt and ribs.

She had convinced me that I didn’t have the know-how to make ribs and to be honest I was relieved to have my fears confirmed. She suggested I go with her to Highway 61—Toronto’s best rib restaurant--to pick out ribs to serve as my own creation. The men at the restaurant called me cheeky when I told them of my plans and they wrote me out instruction on how to caramelize the ribs in BBQ sauce—I was amused.

After all the ingredients were collected Erin drove me home.

The ribs were good and he seemed to enjoy himself in my company. I was secretly proud despite the fact that it had nearly taken an entire village to prepare this simple meal.

Although I had promised my aunt, my roommate and the boys at Highway 61 that I would lie about the ribs when asked how I’d made them—I couldn’t. I had a nervous blurt and told him the entire story. God I’m a nerd.

New Years 2011 resolution: Get better at having secrets and lying.