Late Nights and Spaghetti Squash

I discovered this food blogger, Chef Bob. Jeremy and I think he is quite awesome. Watch his video, and you, too, will become a believer. Though, his chopping up of a chicken isn't quite as easy as he makes it out to be....

Jeremy and I decided that we need to watch all his videos, and then cook together. You know, so we can bond...

You see...Jeremy and I have been struggling to find quality time together.

Mostly because we are both so exhausted at the end of the day that we spend every evening scouring the internet for episodes of TV shows that we don't get to see since we don't have cable. Or TV of any sort, for that matter.

Yesterday was no exception. It was only different because Jeremy wasn't home for dinner, and I had play super parent by myself (super parent status is granted to any parent that manages to feed all their children at some point in the eveningish time before they are hurried off to bed an hour early because you just can't take it anymore).

Jeremy finally stumbled in after 8 PM, and he had with him half of a squash.

It was a magical spaghetti squash.

Now, if you are like me, when you heard the term "spaghetti squash," your whole body just tensed up and you poorly restrained a shudder.

That's how I used to feel about them. Jeremy would, in a sing-songy tone, talk about the spaghetti squash's delightful qualities, and I would quietly dry heave when he wasn't looking. I suppose it was wrong of me to be so prejudice against a plant I had never before tried, but I had plenty of bad memories of zucchini that prevented me from eating one for years after my childhood, and thus all other squash-like plants were banned from my palate. Except for pumpkins. And cucumbers.

So, when my mother-in-law said she was going to bring some spaghetti squash to dinner a few nights ago, I looked sideways at the wall (because nobody else was looking at me at the time), and resolved to be polite. She brought in a plate full of yellow wormy-ness, and I seriously had my doubts.

I dutifully put some on my plate, and looked at it sideways. It looked at me as if it didn't care, and just laid there, looking limp. I poked it with my fork and lifted some of the "spaghetti," closed my eyes, and put it in my mouth.

Wow.

It was AMAZING! It was the penultimate comfort food.

I shouldn't have been surprised. I mean, my MIL has this magical touch with things that require lots of butter and salt (like her fried potatoes...I tried to make them like she does, and after failing time after time, I decided that the universe granted her dominion over all things grated potatoes, and by golly, I'd just do my own thing and be super awesome at making country potatoes. So there...).

Now, before you go all gaggy on me about spaghetti squash, I'll just tell you that you just need some butter and salt, and BAM most amazing thing ever (gee...I sound like Dad. He puts salt and butter on everything and claims it's super amazing. I draw the line at just about everything he says that about. BUT, if he said it about spaghetti squash, I would have to agree.)

Anyway, so Jeremy came in with the two things I found most comforting: spaghetti squash and him.

*Happy Sigh*

So, we ate spaghetti squash, watched an episode of "Chuck," and snuggled. It was great.

While we may not get the fantastically amazing, brain-enlarging, super-married-people quality time that I fantasize about, this is awesome for the time being.

And you can't ask for more than awesome.