What Baby Wanted, Baby Got
When pregnancy cravings become too strong to ignore
“What do you feel like for dinner?” asked my husband as he opened the fridge. He was — and remains — the resident chef between the two of us.
The year was 2010, and he had, in fact, just completed an eight-week culinary course at a nearby community college, much to my delight. And for someone like me who possesses the capability to muck up a pot of boiling water, I was in awe of his unyielding quest to hone his skills in the kitchen.
Not only did I dislike cooking, I straight-up sucked at it. This was extremely unfortunate for obvious reasons, not the least of which was that I was expecting my first child and was ready to pop. Rubbing my nine-months pregnant belly, I stood on my tiptoes and peered around my husband’s arm to peek inside the fridge.
There wasn’t much to work with.
Yes, my husband knew his way around the kitchen. But I doubt even MacGyver and Rachel Ray could have joined forces to make do with a half-carton of almond milk, a jar of artichokes, a few sticks of unsalted butter, and a questionably safe head of iceberg lettuce.
A trip to the market was definitely in order.
“I want — no, need — steak,” I replied to my husband. I raised a hand to my…
