Home-cooked meal turned out picture-perfect

I knew what I was getting into years ago.

My wife always told me she didn't cook and she wasn't lying.

I've watched as nearly every past foray into the kitchen turned disastrous - from setting off the smoke detector with spaghetti to the infamous oven-roasted remote control.

Until Christmas.

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She spent part of her holidays visiting her father a country away in California. She left with grand plans to cook a Thanksgiving dinner for her dad for Christmas - homemade biscuits and dressing, turkey, macaroni and cheese, a full festive feast.

Miriam even called her grandmother to get the recipes. That was probably the most difficult part. My wife was lost when Granny mentioned "lard" and "sweet milk." And Granny never measures ingredients, never has.

So there was my wife, 2,300 miles from home, armed with a shopping list and vague cooking instructions.

Now there's a threat to national security.

After a trip to the grocery store - where she even had to buy a mixer, a pan and a thermometer - the cooking started. She made the biscuits, the cornbread, the dressing, but wouldn't touch the turkey. As soon as she reached "Remove any excess feathers" on the bird's instruction, she turned that duty over to her daddy.

He handled it like a veteran, stuffing the bird with the homemade dressing and sticking the turkey with a thermometer. They cooked the bird for a couple of hours and pulled it out to read the thermometer. One problem - digital thermometers melt at high temperatures, especially 425 degrees for three hours.

And after all was said and done, the meal was good, she said. Miriam even got some West Coast friends to sample her culinary creations. They liked it, they really liked it.

Now, go ahead, ask the question. How do I know Miriam turned into Betty Crocker for an afternoon?

I have the pictures to prove it. You see, as she took the biscuits out of the oven, her dad snapped a few pictures. There's my wife, posing with a golden brown disc of dough.

Of course, I think it's her. Then again, I've never seen her smiling and in the kitchen, so I can't really be sure.