DUDE, WHERE'S MY FOIE GRAS?
I wrote a blog post several months back about the types of goofy foods my husband used to cook for himself way back when he was single — particularly when he was in college.
You know, Bisquick baked with hot dogs inside (he called it “Big Guns”). We were both amused at some of the responses I got: One reader (and it might be YOU) went so far as to call him “mildly retarded.”
I’ve had a few months to think about this food for thought — my husband is an environmental scientist who works in the public health sector. He holds four certifications (CIH, CSP, CHMM and CPEA) and will complete his master’s degree in Public Health at Emory in December. He’s a classically trained guitarist and holds a second degree black belt in judo.
All this is simply to illustrate that he’s obviously not an idiot. “I don’t get why a reader would automatically assume I’m stupid simply because I don’t know what chervil is,” he said to me when the post went up last …
