Paul and I often have very different ideas about what to cook for dinner. He’s a meat-and-potatoes guy. I love the fresh flavors of Thai and rich Indian spices. Since I do most of the cooking around here, we mostly eat what I want. I throw in a beef brisket or a pork tenderloin here and there, to keep everyone happy.

In planning our meals, I always ask what he’s in the mood for. I make note on my shopping list, the things he’s asked for. Depending on the season, it’s something like meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Or pot roast. In summer, it’s often cheeseburgers or sausage on the grill. You get the idea.

I smile and tell him that his request will be taken into consideration. Then I shop for and prepare curried cauliflower and Indian-spiced chicken. This we serve over brown rice. Paul will dig in, and with a wink, tell me how it’s the best meatloaf he’s ever had. That’s how it is when I cook. It’s not that I don’t like a good meatloaf. I just like the Indian chicken better, and that’s what ultimately wins when I’m in the grocery.

Predictably, something similar happens when Paul is in charge of the shopping and cooking. Not too long ago, while I worked late and he did Daddy-duty, he sent me a text. He was walking into the grocery, with the intention of buying and cooking our dinner.
“what do u want for dinnr?” his text read.

I thought about this for awhile, since I tend to think too much about this stuff and had to consider lots of things: what would our evening be like? Did anyone have to go out for activities or would we all be home? Was it freezing cold or a mild evening?
Putting together all of this information, I decided it would be a perfect night for Thai Soup. We’d add chicken, some green veggies, plenty of lemongrass and curry. It would all balance beautifully with coconut milk broth and lime.

So I texted him back: “thai coconut soup we need lime chicken coconut milk & veggies. xo.”

Thinking about my rich and spicy soup made me finish up my work a little faster and head for home. I couldn’t wait to slurp up the noodles and flavorful soup.

Coming into the kitchen, and with my coat on and bag in hand, I pulled up lids on pots to check out the progress of my soup. But the pots were not filled with spicy coconut milk broth. No bright veggies, no sliced limes, no curry paste waiting to be stirred in.

Instead, I found a pot filled with boiling water for rigatoni. Another with marinara. A third pan with Italian sausage links lined up, getting nicely browned and smelling like sausage. Not lime or curry. Just sausage.

Never as gracious as my husband, I yelled across the kitchen, “Hey! This isn’t Thai Coconut Soup!”

He smiled and explained how he took my request into consideration. But instead decided on a dinner he was craving. It was a taste, really, of my own medicine.

And something I’ve gotten used to, as I spend less time managing our family on my own and more time working. As our children grow older, I do more work outside of our home. We now share many of the jobs that I once did alone. He drives people to soccer and piano. Homework is overseen by Paul. He folds laundry, shops and cooks dinner.

We are not the only family making this transition. A few weeks ago, I sat with a friend in her kitchen. It was late at night and we lingered over our glasses of wine. We talked about this shift in our family dynamic. Her husband is also doing more cooking, cleaning and kid-duty. We got to talking especially about the shared cooking thing, and she showed me what her husband bought to cook for dinner the next evening: rigatoni, marinara sauce and sausage.

We clinked our glasses and said a toast to our meat-and-Italian food cooking husbands. Both of us, though we might not have exactly what we want on our dinner tables, are grateful for our husbands. They support us and work hard and then pull their weight at home. It’s a lot to be thankful for.

Paul sent a text one afternoon soon after that read,”whats for dinnr?” I wrote back, “any ideas?” He suggested, “how bout sausage?” I decided to go ahead and make the sausage. But in every marriage, there has to be compromise, right? He did come home to sausage cooking up on the stove. Instead of pork sausage, though, I made this dish with lean chicken sausage and paired it with healthful lentils and fresh spinach. In this simple dish, the shallots and garlic sausage add plenty of flavor. Packed with iron, protein and fiber, lentils are a great alternative to white pasta.

My family ate this sausage and lentil dish, with little complaining about the spinach. You could easily swap out the spinach for broccoli, or another green vegetable that is palatable to all.

When Paul sent a text last week, asking the usual, “going to store… what u want for dinnr?” I decided to give the guy a break. I didn’t ask for anything Thai, no long shopping list, no ingredients he wouldn’t be able to find. Instead, I wrote him back this: “whatevr u make will be gr8. thnks for shopping. xo.”

The meatloaf Paul made that evening was great. It’s his dad’s recipe, and full of flavor. I dug my fork in, scooped up a bite with some mashed potatoes and with a wink, told Paul it was the best Thai Soup he’s ever made.

Chicken Sausage with Lentils and Spinach

1 1/2 c. dried lentils, rinsed
olive oil
2 medium shallots, peeled and sliced
1 package cooked chicken sausage (like Bilinski’s Spinach and Garlic)
1 lb fresh baby spinach leaves
2 c. chicken broth
sea salt, to taste
plenty of cracked black pepper
Parmesan cheese for serving

In a medium-sized saucepan, combine lentils with enough water to cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes, or until tender. In a large skillet, heat a swirl of olive oil over medium-low heat. Add the shallots and cook, stirring, until soft. Slice the sausages into 1/2″ rounds and add to the shallots. Cook until brown and crisp. Add the spinach and cook for 1 minute, until bright green and just starting to wilt. Stir in the chicken broth and the cooked lentils. Heat through. Season to taste and serve in shallow bowls with the Parmesan.