Moist Snack Cakes

Jason and I went to bed angry last night, not speaking for the last hours we were both awake. The source of our argument? Eating noises.



Jason and his brothers have severe issues with the noises people make while eating. They claim it's from the strict table manners enforced by their mother and mostly they joke about it. When we were dating, dinner at the future in-laws' house often deteriorated into an exaggerated display of mouth smacking and cavernous crunching by the boys so as to make light of the issue. It was kind of a "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" mentality they employed to keep themselves from going crazy when there were a dozen people sitting tightly together at a dinner table with no music or TV, eating, say, corn on the cob.



It's just been something I've had to deal with. If I grab some chips with my sandwich during a weekend lunch, I'm going to get a look across the table if I get overzealous in the chips' crispness. If my TMJ disorder is acting up (and it did all summer) and my jaw is popping and cracking, it's probably going to get a comment (to his credit, comments about my jaw show more concern about my general health than annoyance at the noise.) And heaven forbid if I slip up and make anything resembling a smacking noise with a particularly saucy meal.



Speaking of "saucy", I have to mention that other hangup of the boys: what they call "sauce" words. They get sincerely grossed out by certain words used to describe food, particularly any word that might connotate extreme enjoyment of food. "Sauce" gives them the shivers because of the multiple "s" sounds, which they will purposefully drag out when torturing each other at the family table. Really any word with an "s" sound that is used to describe food will get a shiver or two. Some words they say just sound disgusting: "succulent", "savory", and the combo of "meats and cheeses." The number one disgusting word? "Moist." If one of the brothers ever becomes a vampire or zombie, and attacks me in search of blood, I could repel him better by saying, "Moist! Moist!" over and over again than by using the strongest garlic or the shiniest cross in the world. Just saying this word around them makes them cover their ears and shout as if their ears are going to bleed.



I know I married in to this, but sometimes, with my rampant self-consciousness...I just can't take it.



I am what the brothers might call a "canyon mouth." Their mother is one, too, so it's not a fatal sin. I try very hard to use good manners, as loud chewing and smacking noises make me a little crazy, too. However, I can overlook the normal, natural noises well-mannered people make eating. It's only the mouth-breathers who chew with their mouths open that make me nuts (I have an aunt who does this, God bless her heart.) Even if I try my best to chew quietly, and take small bites, and turn the TV on, and remain placid, and not look like I am actually enjoying my food, I still make what my husband would call "loud chewing noises." And when I get called out on that, I get pissed.



I have been doing exercises that have made the jaw clicking better, so I thought things were fine. Last night I made some chicken pad thai, and it is, if you'll excuse me, a bit of a saucy dish. The noodles are long, and there's some crunchy peanuts in it, and I guess in retrospect it's kinda a loud thing to eat.



I got a phone call at the beginning of dinner, and it was important, so I didn't get back to my food until Jason was pretty much finished. It's always worse when Jason isn't eating; your own chewing noises usually drown out your spouse's. I noticed twice while I was eating that Jason looked my way, and I was about ready to ask him if I had something in my nose, when he said,



"Tonight's just a bad dinner for that, I guess."



And I knew by the "that", he meant my mouth.



It got ugly. I got up and took the rest of my dinner from the dining room to the kitchen, to which he said I was over-reacting, to which I said maybe he should start eating in another room since it's his problem, not mine, to which he said he didn't mean anything personal, that he just said that to make light of it "to keep [his] sanity." As if my chewing is making him crazy. As if it's normal or sane to get THAT hung up on eating noises. Hmph.



Other things were said, and feelings got hurt (mine), and since we can't see eye to eye on this and probably never will, it ended in avoidance and silence. I went to bed wondering if "thinks I and everyone else for that matter chews too loudly and can sometimes be a complete a-hole about it" is grounds for divorce. I concluded it probably isn't, but it sure would enliven the paperwork if that were a choice.



We haven't even discussed it today, and we're back to talking, and if he got offended by my mastication of grilled chicken tonight at dinner, he didn't say anything. Which is as it should be.



And after Ains got in bed, we savored a moist, buttery pound cake with ripe, juicy berries smothered in a creamy, whipped dairy topping.



Take that, honey! I bet you'll be in agony for days after reading that one! Revenge is...saucy.