A man's dinner

April 7, 2011

Dear Patty,

One of the beauties of men is that we can be satisfied quite simply. A ballgame, a beer and some wings can make many of us very happy. This simplicity extends to food, to the extent that simpler seems better to the male palate. If it's salty and creamy and chewy and spicy, we're in love.

My mom used to make a casserole that basically consisted of pork chops, potatoes and cream of mushroom soup. There were no leftovers.

DC is not a casserole girl. She doesn't even like her food to mix with other food. A psychologist might read boundary issues into that. When dishing up food, I just make sure her green beans and mashed potatoes keep their distance.

For the past year or so, DC has been in charge of lining up meals at her church for funerals and for members who need extra help because of an illness. So when a church member had rotary cuff surgery recently, DC offered to make the husband and wife dinner. This is an erudite couple, so she worried about what to make. But the husband said he didn't care what she prepared as long as it didn't require him to do dishes afterward. How simple we men are.

The men at her Rotary Club advised DC to go with a casserole. Men love casseroles, they said, and described the ingredients of their favorites. All included cream of something soup.

DC decided to follow the Rotarians' advice, but her choice of casseroles was decidedly un-Rotarian, a concoction of chicken, rice and sun-dried tomatoes topped by a black olive tapenade.

Long ago, kings and queens kept on their payroll someone whose role was to taste food to prevent murderously ambitious kinsmen from ascending to the throne by poisoning a lamb shank. That is my role in our household, and so far no one has died.

That now includes the husband and the wife who just had surgery.

DC views any recipe as mere suggestions of ingredients, measurements, cooking time and temperature, but the can of cream of broccoli soup added to please the Rotarians might have doomed this dish.

DC did not protest my thumbs-down appraisal of the casserole she'd prepared. Instead she quickly started making a more traditional version held together by cream of celery soup. Since this was a last-minute meal, she put a bottle of pinot noir in the basket, possibly a first in the annals of church meals. She also included a note telling the couple not to eat the casserole if they didn't find it appetizing.

The men-love-casseroles theory proved out. At least the husband told DC he enjoyed the meal. No dishes had to be washed. And maybe a bottle of wine can turn cream of anything into manna.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a former reporter for the Southeast Missourian.