Last night, I let my husband cook for me. It’s rare that I relinquish control of my kitchen but I am glad I did. He made a delightful stuffed chicken Parmesan with rotini and garlic breadsticks (courtesy of Pillsbury).

The chicken was moist, but the breading crisp. Inside was a layer of mozzarella and Parmesan and the cheeses and sauce topped the breasts as well.

But believe me. It wasn’t easy to let go.

I shuddered when he pulled out the jar of cheap store-bought marinara and battled demons as I searched frantically for other sauce (there was none, unless I made it). I found the crushed tomatoes and nearly popped the can open to just make a quick sauce. Somehow though, I found the strength to resist.

And when I saw him twisting the breadsticks before slathering the garlic spread on, I quickly advised him to spread first, twist second. But I didn’t jump in and I didn’t take over.

And finally, when I asked one too many questions, he banished me. Yes, he banished ME from MY kitchen! But I obliged and left.

Hey, it’s one night, and the results were worth it. It’s still my cucina bella.

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