Let God Cook
SUSAN TYNER | CONTRIBUTOR My husband Lee and I do not fight a lot, but when we do, it’s usually over something small. During our first year of marriage, our fights started in the kitchen. He had a way of cleaning knives because he worked in a restaurant growing up. Since I grew up cooking (and washing a lot of dishes), I didn’t really think that advice applied to me. When he insisted his way of knife handling was better than mine, I took it personally. Two hours later, we were making up after a huge fight. Turns out, the fight was not about the knife, but control. Before you think this is a “how to” marriage blog, hear my next kitchen story. For context, this is after thirty-six years in the kitchen. We have learned we have different approaches to meal prep. I tend to go fast and “eyeball” measurements while Lee’s perfectly chopped onion would make any sous chef jealous. Recently, I was cooking a recipe for the umpteenth time while Lee and our youngest daughter, Rebecca, were hanging around the kitchen island. Lee kept on asking questions about what I was doing to the point of triggering another Iron Chef battle episode. Although that was not his intent, it was slowing me down and I could feel my heart wanting to grab control of my kitchen. Before that could happen, Rebecca says in her twenty-something slang, Dad, let Mom cook!...
