It’s safe to say that if Daniel and I ever split up, we both know whose fault it is.
We’re usually quite calm, big laughers, loving, a little like Laverne and Shirley, maybe. One of us being the masculine counterpart.
Generally, we’re making jokes at the world’s expense, I’m reprimanding pasta when its starchy water bubbles over the pot, Daniel is making promises to God in return for sports favors. Harmony on the whole.
But come 7:30 each evening, there is a marked difference in our den. You see, every night we play a lil’ ol’ game called Jeopardy. I bet the neighbors could tell you more about it than we can; the two of us so embroiled in game play that the outside world could be blown to smithereens and we’d still be positively wailing, “What are… THINGS THAT RHYME WITH SAILBOAT!!!”. The change in sounds booming from our apartment from 7:29 to 7:30 is like a flick of the radio dial from Mozart to gangsta rap. The explicit version.
We are stubborn, the two of us. Competitive in the way that pageant moms are on Toddlers and Tiaras. Both of us would sooner sign our bodies over to science than yield an inch of trivia territory. Let me put it this way, we’ve thought seriously about getting a voice recorder so we can replay answers when we’re unclear on who chimed in first. Guaranteed the voice recorder would be a pile of plastic parts next to the wall, two categories in.
The problem I find is this: Daniel is brilliant.
Don’t tell him I said that. Just, please don’t.
It’s true, though, I’ve never met anyone so intelligent in every way. One of the reasons I fell in love with him was for his genius. And that’s all well and good when we’re living our lives outside of the thirty minute time slot for Jeopardy. But once Alex starts reading those answers, Daniel is running categories and I’m rolling a snowball into a snowman of hatred. And while I consider myself to be smarter than a fourth grader (I make no promises about fifth graders), I’ve had to adapt to my Mensa competitor by using guerrilla game tactics. Darwin is smiling from the grave.
These tactics include, but are not limited to: shouting, crying, threatening, making obscene wagers and perhaps most effective, cooking. He wins: burnt toast. I win: Thanksgiving dinner. It’s best if I win, since I’m the mayor of the kitchen.
This dinner is one of the reasons our love can withstand Jeopardy. Sweet and salty fried couscous. It’s got all of the flavor and toasted depth of traditional Chinese fried rice, but with that whole ‘this is good for me’ thing goin’ on.
Daniel loves Asian food.
And, well, I just love eating.
Does that count as a Daily Double?
Soy Ginger Fried Couscous
- 3 eggs, lightly beaten
- 2 cups cooked, cooled couscous
- 1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil, plus more for drizzling.
- 1 bag organic broccoli slaw
- 2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 4 TBSP soy sauce
- 1 TBSP brown sugar
Heat a large skillet over medium heat. Coat the pan with nonstick cooking spray. Add the beaten eggs and stir with a spatula almost constantly for 3 minutes, until scrambled, fluffy, and cooked through. Remove to a small plate. Wipe out the skillet.
Add 1 TBSP sesame oil to the skillet and increase the heat to medium-high.
Add the broccoli slaw, ginger, and garlic. Saute, stirring frequently for about 4 minutes, until slightly softened and fragrant.
Add the couscous. The pan will seem dry but you want the couscous to brown and get nice and crispy. Saute the mixture for about 2 minutes.
In a small bowl, whisk together the soy sauce and brown sugar until the sugar is dissolved. Pour into the pan. Stir to combine. Drizzle with additional sesame oil. Add the scrambled eggs to the pan and mix well.