Pancake ammo

Like most normal couples, we are not immune to fighting from time to time. It sucks, but in some ways it's kind of reassuring that we care enough to not just get riled up, but to talk, if a bit too loudly, about things until they're solved.

Unlike normal couples, about half of our fights are ignited by something food related. Of course it's never actually about the food. All I know is that on the days when we tensely avoid eye contact and slowly smother in subconsciously or not utterly and completely ruin whatever I am craving and cooking, which quickly results in me swearing and crying and food throwing. Hey, some people say we need to talk, I throw food at the wall.

Like this weekend. Nothing had actually happened. But we were trying so hard to be polite, all please and thank you, excessive use of "I" statements and all, that it was clear that both of us were very aware of the underlying tension and very unwilling to be the first person to address it.

We very calmly decided to make some pancakes, Zach on batter making duty and me on flipping. The last time he forgot to get blueberries out of the freezer to thaw, so I kindly reminded him, and he insisted he would never make such a mistake again, especially since he knew it was important to me. 

So, of course there were no blueberries sitting out. I lied, said it was fine, turned the griddle on to preheat, and waited a few minutes for them to thaw. Which is very much not my precious, finely honed routine. Which of course made the griddle way too hot, and turned the first pancake into a blackened disk, with a gooey undercooked center.

Ok, so one pancake was a little crispy. Well, that lousy blueberry forgetting husband can just choke it down and deal. Big breath. Pancake two will be just fine. Pancake #2 refused to hold together, and just dissolved into a doughy mess. By this point I'm making very obvious grumbles, and trying to let out frustration through angry whisking. I didn't even try deep breaths for the next one, just threw some batter on the griddle, and shot eye daggers at it, just daring it to defy me. And then that %@*^ pancake would not $#^*$^% rise! So I did the only logical thing I could, screamed at the pancake, catapulted it onto the wall with the spatula and stormed out of the kitchen to sulk in the bathroom. Hey, there are only so many places to sulk in a studio.

This isn't the first time this has happened. There was the pita dough. And the guacamole. The fajitas were probably the worst for mess value. I swear, I was aiming for the trash can, but seeing red may have impacted my aim a little, and resulted in a very brightly covered wall about two feet above the trash.

On the plus side, I always feel so much better after my food triggered outbursts. Taking all my bubbling rage and channeling it in a physical, albeit messy way, is remarkably effective at relieving tension. Sure for about 5 minutes latter I'm almost more furious, but at some point after my brain gets done blaming Zach for making me hurl food, I start to realize that I just threw an utterly ridiculous temper tantrum. This usually leaves me ashamed enough and humble enough to have a conversation that borders on rational. On the other hand, instead of having a conversation with a calm, rational husband, I have now created a man who is very concerned and upset over his rage monster temper tantrum throwing out of nowhere over nothing spouse. It's a trade off.

Still, even though it usually all works out, I'm still a little flummoxed why food of all things is my secret rage inducing, tension breaking trigger. It's never a conscious thing. I just wish I knew why my subconscious chooses to ruin delicious things in such a messy fashion. 

What about you? Any weird things that tend to set you off?