Rice, quinoa, sweet potatoes, yams…Dear God will I ever be free from these temptations? I think not….my very DNA is against it.

My husband and I we often have discussions about carbs, specifically my carb obsession (Rice and quinoa all day and every day: sign me up for life please). As a Haitian, it’s safe to say carbs, specifically rice is part of my DNA. For my husband it’s not the same. He’s French, his obsessions look more like cheese and french baguette and so on. Which doesn’t bother me, Lord knows I’ve sacrificed a few pair of jeans to his cheese obsession. When we got together I was long and lean, now I am more of a “chubby fit” type. The problem with being chubby fit is there’s not much “fit” into the equation: It is mostly fat.

To be perfectly honest I sometimes find his attitude towards rice quite disrespectful :). Like that time he wanted to make a rice salad with mostly salad??!!! I simply had to have a talk with him:

-Me: “What are you doing?”

– Husband: “I am rinsing the rice with cold water”.

–  Me: …???!!!! (You could actually hear system failure sounds on my side…)

– Husband: “Well, honey, it’s a rice salad so I am rinsing the rice to get rid of the starch.”

–  Me: “Ok, let me get this right: First of all you throw the rice in hot water, then you go again and splash the rice with cold water and just when the poor suffering rice was starting to recover from the abuse, you slap it into a large bowl and proceed to bury it under an insane load of veggies like…like some dirty shameful little secret. “

-Husband: “….???!!!”

-Me: “Quite frankly from where I stand, it’s as if you’re trying to make it look like the rice wasn’t even there… do you realize the rice is doing all the work with no credit?”

Husband: “..??!!! ” (I could see he was debating whether I was on my period or not…)

-Husband:  “Well, this is how a rice salad is made, so…”

-Me: “No, no, no, if there’s rice somewhere, the rice needs to be the star of the show. Period.”

He looked at me like you would someone in need of a heavy dose of sedative. I looked at him like you would a two year old who just bit his playmate: With eyes filled with compassion and a clear promise of punishment.

Although you do know it’s normal two year old behavior, you also know this cannot go unnoticed. So you bite your tongue. You resist committing murder and you walk them through normal human behavior. Which is exactly what I did for dear husband. He wasn’t entirely convinced after it all but as an intelligent individual he did realize the need to thread carefully in the presence of a high strung (read hormonally unbalanced) individual  with a carb obsession.

I must admit I get heated and unnaturally excited when rice or any type of grain comes under fire. If that continues I may have to add some sort of rice routine to our foreplay…:)

The thing is where I come from rice is the sun that never goes down. In Haiti, if you have a full pantry and you have no rice, you have nothing to eat. Your pantry is automatically considered empty.  It is a culture thing.

What about you, dear reader? Is there any food that is so ingrained in your culture it literally became part of your DNA? Let me know in the comments below! Talk soon and Bisous!