WHY I COOK

"Can tonight be Taco Night?" is the first thing my husband says to me when I pick up his call. "I've been thinking about tacos all day."

My husband works at a mentally challenging job, often putting in 10 hours a day. Tacos seems like an easy enough request to fill. "Sure, call me about 30 minutes before you'll be home and I'll have Taco Night ready."

I usually keep taco stuff at the house, because it seems like Phil thinks about tacos every day. As I go through the fridge and pantry to make sure we've got everything we'll need, I find only one ingredient missing-- the taco sauce. I am happy with sauce-less tacos, but it will crush Phil if we don't have any at dinner. I'm in workout clothes and I haven't brushed my hair yet today, but I know I have to make a run to Kroger.

After work, traffic is heavy, the self check-out lane several people deep. I add a Snickers bar to my basket to make up for the inconvenience of having to come to Kroger at 5pm.

He calls while I'm driving home, so I get things going as soon as I return. By the time he walks in, the house is filled with the rich smell of seasoned ground beef and warm refried beans. The lettuce is satisfyingly crisp as I slice through it. With a flourish I pull the taco sauce out of the plastic bag and hand it to Phil. He actually kisses the bottle, opens it, and pours a bit of the tangy, spicy sauce onto a spoon, which goes directly into his mouth. A huge smile breaks across his face. This is why I cook at home, why I ask myself, "What's for dinner tonight?"

I do it for the smile. Well, I like tacos, too.