Fried chicken and changes...

When my husband, Chris, and I married he was 25 and I was 24. Neither of us could cook, but we both liked to eat! We had a budget that was tighter than tight, in fact, going to the grocery store used to plunge me into a several-day-long depression, so to this day he does all the shopping. For a long while we dined on delicacies such as boxed macaroni and cheese, spam and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And during that time we experimented with cooking. We ate a lot of pasta, ground beef and beans. I was the type to go for a recipe book, while practical Chris would dig around to see what we had in the kitchen and combine those ingredients to make... something. The rule was,(and is!) whoever got home first starts supper. I well remember coming home in the early days to find my smiling man in the kitchen. "What's for supper?" I'd ask suspiciously. He'd give me a sound kiss and a conspiratorial grin and say, "Chrissy surprise." This meant that he had scoured the 'fridge for left overs, and tossed what he'd found in a pot with some cooked rice and, perhaps, a can of cream-of-something soup. His most memorable, (and oddly, LAST) "Chrissy surprise" bubbled up at me in a spicy green gelatinous mass when I peeked in the pot. It looked terrifying, but oddly, tasted pretty good. We've come a long way since then. Tonight Chris cooked up a big old batch of southern fried chicken. This is the recipe he used: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/paula-deen/southern-fried-chicken-recipe/index.html "You gotta love a recipe that has three eggs and an entire cup of hot sauce in it," he told me. And yes. Yes, I DID love it. This chicken has a fabulous crust that is spicy without being obnoxious. Chris has a gift for being able to look at the menu in a restaurant and choose the best item there. I know this because I always taste his meal and spend the rest of the evening wishing I'd ordered what he did. He can also look at a recipe and tell in a flash if it is going to be merely good or just freaking wonderful. I am a good cook. I bake fragrant, tender bread, make quiche that people talk about, and my Thanksgiving feast is memorable. I can make a gravy that will knock your socks off. But my kitchen skills pale in comparison to those my husband brings to our table. Our daughter recently asked me, "Mom, do you think people can change?" I told her no, I didn't think that people changed much... they are who they are. But really, that is wrong. We can change and learn and grow. Deliciously.