The New Recipe
I had never been sure what to expect when my wife cooked. She was always on blogs finding recipes that, in all honesty, were above her skill level. Not trying to be rude, but there we are.
I was hardly surprised when one evening she mentioned, “I found a recipe for something we’ve never tried before.” She rolled her tongue as a drumroll, “We’re going to have boar!
“Honey,” I tiptoed, “where did you find boar around here? Aren’t those big dirty pigs from Kenya or a rainforest somewhere”?
She waved me off, “Hush. I’m trying to broaden our horizons. Imagine, when the Darvilles visit, we’ll get to say we’ve been eating wild boar! How extravagant!”
“How many days will we spend in the hospital?”
“Douglas! What did you say?”
“How do you think she’ll respond, dear?”
She eyed me suspiciously before shooting me knowing smile and crooning, “She’ll be terribly jealous. I know she’s always been jealous that I married you, but I still like to remind her that I always finish first.”
“Of course you do, my love.”
Mind you, Mrs. Darville and I had been seeing each other secretly for months. I had been wondering if she knew about us. We’ve had a few close calls. She’d come home from the store early, and the lovely Mrs. Darville would have to run out the back door half dressed. I never minded the view, but always wished she didn’t have to leave. She had even gone as far as to get a tattoo of a bear on that little behind after the nickname she gave me. It always gave me a smile.
“Now go wash up so you can help me set the table.”
As I went to wash she opened the oven and I smelled an aroma so sweet, so succulent it was as if it snared me by the nose and pulled me back to the kitchen.
“You never told me where you ended up finding the boar, honey.”
“Oh, somewhere nearby,” she sweetly teased. “I had a feeling you already had a taste for it.”
“You know, I think I just might.”
We sat down to one of the best dinners we’ve ever had. She had a spark in her I hadn’t seen in a long time. The kind of spark that Mrs. Darville had used to lure me into her bed with ease.
She smiled at me. I smiled back.
“So, what do you think?”
Mid-chew I replied, “you know, it’s good. I never thought I’d like boar.”
“Oh, silly me, did I tell you this was boar? I meant to say whore.” She giggled. “I’ve never cooked whore before.”
“Whore?”
Mid sentence she took a still bloody steak off the serving platter and slapped it onto the bare, wooden table.
“I told you I found it nearby. I actually picked it up next door.”
On the backside of the steak, there was a small patch of skin left on the cut of meat. I could just make out the picture of a bear on the seared flesh.
“I knew you’d like it.”
