“Wow, you are so lucky!”
That’s the first thing everyone says to my husband, Dan, when they find out he’s married to a food writer. (The second thing they say: “How do you not weigh 500 pounds?”) Little do they know — while I get a thrill from digging into homemade bucatini with lamb Bolognese, Dan would be just as happy (if not happier) if I set a bowl of plain buttered egg noodles in front of him.
Yes, in a rom-com-style twist of fate, the food writer married a picky eater. And after 14 years of sharing our lives, I’ve come to terms with the fact that he’s probably never going to split a lobster roll with me, but that doesn’t mean I love him any less. Here’s how we both stay happy and well-fed.
