"I hope this stuff isn't raunchy ..."

That's what my husband said as I pureed veggies for the spaghetti pie I was making tonight. That's not real encouraging, to have your man describe your meal-in-progress as possibly "raunchy." But that's my guy, always fronting with the "funny" comments. Of course, he never said anything I had made was raunchy and was merely referring to the unusual recipe I was trying, so I'll give him a break.

I was cooking up a recipe from the controversial new cookbook "Deceptively Delicious" by Jessica Seinfeld. It shows you how to hide vegetables in foods. It's aimed at kids, but I think veggies are gross, too, and my husband can only tolerate them slightly more than I can. So out comes the fun little book for tricking the tykes!

In the end, the recipe was not bad. We really couldn't taste the carrots and broccoli in there. But the whole thing was way more work than I usually put into a meal (Most of my recipes are: boil some pasta and/or bake or cut up and fry some chicken breasts. Either open a jar of pasta sauce or a can of Campbell's tomato or mushroom soup to make a sauce. The end, good night Irene, that's all she wrote). The Seinfeld recipe was a crazy amount of work and cleaning up from my perspective, and I won't be making it again.

On the bright side, at least my husband didn't think it was "raunchy." Lucky for him; I would've felt just awful dumping the leftovers in his backpack while he slept. Now THAT would be raunchy.