One day, not long before we were married, I decided I wanted to prepare a big, delicious dinner for Sal. I wanted to cater it to his tastes as best as I could having never really been exposed to authentic Mexican cooking–certainly not the cuisine of his region. So, relatively clueless, I researched some recipes online and set about making him the meal.
He arrived home at the end of my prep stage, right before I was about to cook. He came into the kitchen and asked me what I was making.
I honestly do not remember most of what I was preparing. I know the main dish was pork with some sauce. What I do remember, however, was that I was making a spicy, red rice dish for a side. And I told him so.
He laughed at me. “You cannot make the spicy rice, Sarah!”
“Why not?” I asked him, indignant. “I already have the sauce prepared in the refrigerator, I’m just going to simmer the rice in it.”
“You have no good spicy sauce. You only know the buffalo sauce. That is not for rice.”
“I’m not making buffalo rice, just spicy rice.” I then went and pulled the sauce out of the refrigerator. “See? I made this.”
He came over and inspected the sauce. “This is not right,” he told me. “You do not make rice like this.”
“Well some people must, because I found the recipe online and other people like it.”
He thought about this for a moment. Then he looked at me and said, “It is okay, Sarah. You can go watch the TV. I will fix this.”