Then, if that’s not bad enough (green bean casserole!!), The Husband adds insult to injury and say, "Honey, I don't think you will like it because," (get ready for this part), "I used canned green-beans." If a Judge Chef were here giving this dish a rating, maybe the concept or idea of green-bean casserole (GBC) would get a 3 on a scale of 1 to 10 (10 being the best—equivalent rating for, perhaps, lobster thermador), and the 3 rating the Judge Chef would give is for creativity with a little pity mixed in. Since I now know that it is canned green-beans (frozen would be just as bad), the rating drops to a minus 2.
(Author's note: if the fates have smiled upon you and you've had the extremely good fortune to never see nor know what goes into a GBC, besides canned green beans it also has canned mushroom soup. In fact, there are probably some mystery ingredients too, as GBC enjoys the retro 1950's nickname of Casserole Finis which translates roughly to "Whatever's About To Expire In The Pantry" casserole.)
Then, The Husband has the strange idea to say, "You know what, MOV? If I had to make it over...." (oh, God, please don’t!), "I would not have put the cheese on top." Not have put the cheese on top?!? How about not have gotten the can opener out or even bothered to turn on the oven. How about, if I had to do it over again, I would have called Domino's.
The Husband kept emphasizing that he made it from scratch (when, in fact, he should have scratched the whole idea). There are certain items that one should buy from Trader Joe’s, and that list does not (ever) include canned green beans. (Hint: list should include the wide range of foods found in the friendly Chocolate Family and/ or the grape family—think Napa Valley).
(warning: full-color photo of GBC below)
(my sincere apologies to Le Creuset company, as it is obvious that my beautiful French pan is calling out in agony at this unacceptable form of cooking abuse/ torture)
Between you and me, I would rather starve or at least go to bed hungry than put anything even mildly resembling that GBC in my mouth. I think you are pretty much guaranteeing you will have multiple visits to the “facilities” at inconvenient times if that creation touches your tongue and teeth. (I did go to bed hungry, by the way. Please feel sorry for me now. But at least I can still go to the bathroom like a normal person in a normal fashion and not have to spend 6 hours in there.)
I do not have the heart to tell The Husband all this (and/or take the risk that our marriage might indeed be held together by gooey cheddar cheese), so that is why I am telling you. Luckily, The Husband prefers CNN and Sports Center to my blog, so I am hopeful he will not read this. If I see that GBC photo end up on YouTube or your Facebook page, I'm comin' after ya (and oh, yes, I'll have a recipe in my hand).
(“Melting Only Velveeta”)
PS--thank you to The Husband for making GBC. I had Writer's Block, but now I don't!