Marinating Marriage
Hello Ringmaster Rex,
My fiancée has a favorite condiment. She puts it in many recipes, many foods, even things you would not expect. Her dark master is Worcestershire sauce.
The Woosh (as I call it) was a staple of her mom’s cooking, and my fiancée will not budge on its greatness. But I am sick of the freaking smell. Sick of that unnatural shade of brown. Sick of the bottle always lurking in fridge.
The breaking point came the last time I made pancakes. Once she discovered we were out of syrup, she shrugged her shoulders and she put The Woosh ON HER PANCAKES! I was obviously instantly and horrendously repulsed.
Will our incompatible palates quash future happiness?
Signed,
Betrothed Always Ruins Food
Dear BARF,
The timing and frequency of her favorite marinade is not the issue at hand.
No, the issue is not about the merits of some specific catsup or relish.
This is about: If you love someone, is it ever right to try and change them, and if not, can you stand to live with their flaws?
My advice: Speak little about her peculiar flavor accompaniment. If you call it The Woosh, do it with a smile.
There is no wrong answer. You like what you like. Taste is subjective, as they say. This holds true for food as well as art. I never take for granted the wonders of the culinary art form.
You have found someone special, yes?
Counterpoint commentary by …
Shandoleesa, Mistress of the Trapeze
You hold your tongue, you hide your feelings. Cower behind a nice-guy mix of limp politeness and sarcasm.
Would I respect you?
NO!
Would I crush any man who dared tell me what foods to eat?
YES!
My ideal man? Someone seeks to understand my wants and needs. Who buys a 50-gallon drum of this sauce and fills a hot tub with it. Who takes me writhing in that sticky pool and licks The Woosh straight from my skin.
Do you comprehend what I’m saying?
Rearrange your understanding of love.
Here’s the crux of this dilemma.
She is a goddess.
You? A mere mortal.
Act accordingly.
A man who could not share my Worcestershire sauce is a man who would never, EVER, share my bed.