Astonishing, isn’t it? That there could be a Value Pack of Pig’s Feet hanging out in my kitchen for 4 weeks, and nobody noticed it? It all started when Kathryn was searching for artichoke hearts and ran into Mr. Value Pack in the supermarket. Me, I can’t resist a dare, especially one that involves poking just a little bit of fun at my sweet, unobservant husband. As it is, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him laugh so hard it brought tears to his eyes.
I went and got my jar of Pig’s Feet on the evening of March 1st. I placed them prominently next to the garganto-jug of popcorn. We eat popcorn a lot, so I figured the feet would be discovered quickly. Not so, my friend. After about a week, I transferred them one shelf up to live with the baking stuff and peanut butter and honey. That day, Derek decided to make chocolate cookies (from a Martha Stewart magazine, no lie.) He got out the baking powder, baking soda, cocoa, etc, without noticing their cloven friends.
About two weeks went by where nothing happened, even when I asked Derek to fish out the peanut butter and honey for sandwiches. One day last week, I was baking and I asked him for the oil spray, which was actually touching the feet. Nothing.
I began to despair of him ever finding the treasure. I started thinking, like Bon did of her husband, that he had for sure seen them, but for some crazy reason, chose not to comment. I talked to Kathryn a couple days ago, and told her my fears. She decided Derek had seen them and was playing mind games with me. She suggested a strategy for forcing him to be the first to break. I was to keep moving the jar to different, obvious locations where he could not fail to notice and say something. Hmmm.
So I put them in the fridge, on the top shelf near the milk and water.
Open the door, and THERE THEY ARE! That was 3 days ago. Since then, I have tried to be around any time Derek opened the fridge, just in case. I asked him for water for dinner two nights in a row. One of those times, he actually grabbed the pig’s feet, moved them to a different shelf, and got out the water. I held my breath. Nothing. Oh, the suspense!
Tonight, I figure he’d have to notice them if I put them on the dinner table with the rest of tonight’s dinner. So, there they were, with the pickled artichoke hearts (fitting, eh?), the falafel, the tzatziki, and the pitas. Doesn’t that sound like a well rounded meal? A grain, a dairy/vegetable salad, deep-fried legumes, and pickled, semi-boneless goodness.
I called everyone in to dinner. The little boys came in first. They started asking, as they always do, “What’s this?” and pointing to everything. “Artichoke hearts,” I said, hoping they wouldn’t make me say out loud what was in the jar. Somehow, (it must be their male-ness) they did not see the pig’s feet.
Derek came in with Kiki in tow, started talking about falafel, looked over, and said, “Who’s gonna eat the pig’s feet?”
I stared at him, blankly.
He asked me where they came from. I asked if he really didn’t know, if he really hadn’t seen them. He said he’d seen them this morning, while I was out running, but forgot to ask me about them. He forgot. Then he actually said to me, “You’re the sort of person that would try to cook with something like that.” I laughed out loud, and said, “Yeah, except NO I WOULDN’T!!! PIG’S FEET!!!”
He really hadn’t noticed them, for 4 whole weeks. He told me that it must be because he just trusts me so much to make good things for him that he doesn’t need to pay attention to what’s in the pantry. My theory is that he’s a man. If I hadn’t put them out for dinner, I would have had to bury them in the backyard with Grandpa’s turtle when we pack everything up to move in August.
So do I win?