You have likely heard the adage that the only certainties in life are death and taxes. I have one more to add.
My husband will never request spelt for dinner.
Ironically, he likes spelt for dinner. He is a health-conscious eater, avid exerciser, and (reasonably) good sport abut trying my many recipe concoctions. He uses 100% whole wheat flour in his banana bread, eats oatmeal year-round, and is (sort-of) ok about multi-grain tortillas . He knows that spelt has a great nutty flavor and meaty texture, is loaded with fiber, has 11 grams of protein per cooked cup, and is packed with nutrients galore (think calcium, manganese, zinc, iron, vitamin E and B-complex vitamins).
But suggesting or requesting spelt (or any other whole grains) for dinner? Not. Going. To. Happen.
Lucky for him, he married me. Whole grain-loving me. And I have a
trick strategy to make sure it’s spelt for dinner when the time is right: (a) commence spelt preparation in his absence; (b) contain and conceal the spelt before his return; (c) misdirect any and all dinner inquiries until dinnertime is imminent: and (d) present the spelt.
I have complete steps (a) and (b) thus far with my emerald green, spring spelt salad. I know he’s going to love it, in spite of himself.
Mum’s the word until dinner!
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day, everyone!