THE ODD COUPLE OR ROOMIE LOVE

My roommate and I have been living together for almost three years now and I’m beginning to worry that we’ve become way too “domestic” for our own good. As is his normal routine, this past weekend he was up in Boston for class. Typically, he uses National Airport which is a short METRO ride from our apartment, but this time he was coming back through BWI Airport (officially “Thurgood Marshall Baltimore Washington International Airport”). He went up late Friday and was coming back Saturday afternoon. He called me about noon on Saturday and said he was going to get his haircut and then out to Logan at 3:00 to catch his flight home (through Philadelphia) and would probably be back at about 6:30 or 7PM. BWI is the least convenient of our three airports if you live in Downtown DC like we do.

Well, he hadn’t sounded all that great – I had helped him study for his anatomy test and he wasn’t sure he did all that well. (And props where props are due – this semester he’s got a very solid B+ average so far!) Not that I wondered why – I mean do you have any idea what the lateral fissure process is? Yeah, I thought so. Well you have one. It’s the cranial crack that runs across the top of your skill from one ear to the other. Yes, I know probably way to much information but if I have to suffer through this you can too.

Anyway, I was basically recovering from a series of gin and tonics (or shouldn’t it be “gins” and tonic?) from Friday night and wasn’t doing all that much. So I thought I would make him a good dinner knowing he would be cranky and tired by the time he arrived home. We had a couple of Cornish game hens in the freezer so I thawed them out, marinated them in a Tuscan Lemon marinade courtesy of Ina Garten, threw together some cornbread stuffing, roasted some potatoes with Rosemary and garlic and I was going to do some fresh green peas with caramelized onions and mushrooms. But as I was cooking the onions, it occurred to me that my roomie either loved or detested peas. Couldn’t recall which one it was. By this time, it was about 5:00 and I figured he’d be in Philly shortly so I texted him. And sure enough about 10 minutes later I get a text back “I HATE peas”. So no peas.

When he got to Baltimore he called me – mainly to bitch about how the MARC trains weren’t running  and I mentioned that I was making dinner for him. “Why you doing that?” he asked. “Well, I just thought that after a rough day you would appreciate some good home cooking” And right there I stopped. WTF? Waaaaaay too domestic!!! My God, had it come to this? Were we becoming some sort of odd couple? Or had it already happened? Shit!!! So I said to him “Look, I wasn’t doing anything and got bored, OK, so I thought I would cook. That’s all.” He laughed. “You are special, aren’t you.” Of course he meant “Special” as in “Especially White Weird” like, as he puts it, all my “cousins” who run around in the dead of winter in shorts and flip flops. (Yes, sometimes it is VERY embarrassing to be white!)

But I know him. By the time he got back home at 9:30 he was in meltdown mode. As he was putting his things away I quietly went into the kitchen and made plates for the two of us. And I have to say everything turned out like it should – Cornish game hens nice and brown on top and tender and juicy inside, cornbread stuffing just right not too dry not to moist, roasted potatoes crunchy on the outside, and the caramelized onions and mushrooms, well not meaning to brag, but it was to die for. He thought so too.  But then he does love mushrooms.

As we were eating in the living room watching some Olympics stuff, he looks at me and says “You know I can taste the love that went into dinner. You are special.”

Awwwwww – and need you ask why I love the man?

Peas and love!

Scott-tay