Because I can’t do much more than walk lately, I am focusing on food. I know. Whatever. Shut up.

I took a bunch of pictures of dinner the past couple of nights and I hate to delete them from my phone before showing you some deliciousness, and some not so deliciousness. I mean, it’s hit or miss as I figure out how to make an all-veggie, some-bean dinner taste like a cheeseburger and fries.

I cooked up some broccolini and it was delicious. I had never prepared it before and offered it up as a snack while I made some spring rolls. I was so excited, I exclaimed, “This is my first vegan recipe!”

I didn’t expect any follow-up questions, but I should have known better. Groom the Detective pried the truth out of me. The recipe? Throw some olive oil in a pan, scrape in a pantload of garlic, cook at a high temperature until the garlic goes brown, throw in some steamed broccolini, mix it all around, squeeze some lemon on it, and shake a little crushed red pepper over it. I was slightly embarrassed that I had overstated my cooking prowess, but it’s always nice to see Groom chuckle.

Doesn’t matter. It was perfect.

Then, I chopped up some cabbage, cucumber, red bell pepper, green onion, basil, and fresh mint. Grated some carrot. Tossed some tofu in the leftover oil from the broccolini. And, rolled up some spring rolls with avocado. So good. (The wrappers in that picture above? Not so great. I can’t remember what I used last time, but yes there’s a difference between rice wrappers. Who knew?)

Last night, Groom cooked up some quinoa with sauteed shallots, carrots, spinach, and green onion. It was meh, but nothing a little Sriracha couldn’t help. Plus, we ate some roasted asparagus so I could pretend I was eating french fries.

I realize I’m criticizing a meal that Groom cooked. I should point out right now, he is far more advanced in the kitchen than I am. I’m not afraid to say the quinoa was bland because I know next time it won’t be and he isn’t easily offended. 

Final item on the menu: seaweed salad from Shaw’s.

When I was at the checkout at Shaw’s, the cashier looked at the seaweed salad and asked, “Do you really think this is any good?” Valid question. So I said sure, yeah, it’s good. Tastes really fresh, it’s kind of a vehicle for soy sauce and mirin. The cashier sneered and said to the woman in line behind me, “Gross. To each their own, I guess.”

I will admit I had unkind thoughts about that cashier at that moment.

As I relayed the story to Groom while setting the table, I was reminded of a trip we took together to Montana. We had been skiing at Big Sky then took a few extra days to drive around and ended up at a small bar in Livingston, MT. It was one of those bars where everyone was wearing a cowboy hat without a stitch of irony or posturing. The ladies were crowded together separately from the fellas. There wasn’t much loud talking except for an occasional burst of laughter from the gals in the corner.

too afraid to stop and take a real pic

We got the record-skip stare when we walked in, but for the most part everyone ignored us. The conversations were happening over us–the guy on Groom’s left was chatting with the guy on my right. Eventually, one of the fellas asked whether we had been skiing. It was a fair question since I was wearing a ski coat.

But, I detected an undercurrent of judgement. And, I didn’t want that. So, I mentioned that my husband was driving me around Montana to show me the sights because he pops around the state to hunt birds every year.

Boom. The conversation switched to hunting and fishing and…how much the government sucks (uh oh) and how ladies are bad drivers (what?) and people should live their lives how they want (okay!) except for the gays (awww no).

Groom has a better poker face than I do, so I let it be and removed myself from the conversation. I started to watch the ladies at the bar and the lady bartender, who was badass with a capital B. She won me over when she continued to pour more bourbon into my glass without so much as a raised eyebrow, but I almost proposed marriage when she walked out of the kitchen with a plate of hummus.

“What the hell is that?!” shouted one of the ladies. The bartender explained what it was and said she wanted to make different kinds of foods available to customers and that hummus is really good. Almost in unison, everyone in the bar shouted, “NOPE!”

I live on hummus. I realized, even with my manipulative “my husband shoots guns” approach to this bar, I’m just not a man of the people. Groom can somehow make himself fit in, but my pickle face gives me away every time.

As we finished laughing about my irritation with the cashier at Shaw’s, I dove into my plate of seaweed salad.

It was the most disgusting thing I have ever had in my mouth. I love seaweed salad, but I realize that cashier I had so ungraciously judged had probably eaten whatever it was that Shaw’s was selling. And, that was no seaweed salad.

That seaweed salad tasted a lot like crow.