Digression

I'm not even an egg person.

Yes, yes, I will getting back to that whole war crimes topic I raised last post, but seriously (or, I suppose, somewhat less so) how sad is it that, a week before traveling to Kuwait, I spend almost two hours downloading recipes to cook while there?

Caramelized shallots: who wouldn't want to cook this?

I fully agree and empathize with Foxy by Nature's thoughts about being married while feminist, but at the same time I can't help but feel, I don't even know, ashamed? No, embarrassed, by my overwhelming desire to fatten up my husband with delicious meals.

I bet you want to get fat with this, too.

No, no, that's inaccurate: it is my desire to express my love and devotion through tantalizing and amazing meals. Because I don't make any money. And that's where the embarrassment comes, or uneasiness, even: that I feel the only way to properly or fully express my love is through cooking. Am I simply unimaginative? How many other non-financially contributing partners try to ease their guilt with similar excesses? I don't mean stay-at-home moms - their contributions are evident - but rather, housewives or, I suppose, people like me: working (volunteering) elsewhere for little more than living costs.

Yes, yes, I also love cooking and the availability of both ingredients and cooking options in Kuwait (as opposed to the lack thereof in Kabale) throw me into all sorts of ecstatic revelries. However, this doesn't erase the awkwardness that comes with each love-filled meal. I just feel so antiquated, stereotypical, the archetype woman who knows the way to a man's heart is through his stomach; certainly not his mind. I know without a doubt that I think about things, some things more than others, too much, but what about you? Am I over-analyzing a simple situation or have I unwittingly forced myself into this awkwardness? Moreover, is it so bad to express emotion through a personally well-versed medium, i.e., cooking?

All photos courtesy http://smittenkitchen.com/.