I’ve been pretty lucky during my ongoing cooking adventure, in that The Girlfriend has been almost entirely supportive. She’s been willing to try every crazy idea I’ve suggested, even the ones that came with disclaimers:

“I think this should taste alright—if not I can add some parsley or something.”

“The recipe calls for three eggs and we only had one, so I just improvised.”

“Okay, I know the crust came out more…spongy than flaky, but hey, the filling has chocolate in it!”  

She has also indulged me by being willing to watch WAY more Food Network than anyone should have to endure (“They’re doing a second season of “Food Truck Wars!” Do you mind, honey?) I mean, it’s not like I’m always learning things I can use in making that night’s dinner (“Darlin’, get ready–I’m gonna chiffonade some kale tonight!”)

Since I do all the cooking, I usually put together the grocery list, and we’ve only had a few shopping gaffes. I think I’ve finally gotten her to stop buying things we don’t need simply because they’re on sale (“Yes, dear, that is a good price for flaxseed…). Likewise, I think she gets that, for a multitude of reasons, if you must buy a chemical-laden industrially-processed fake whipped topping, you get the Redi-Whip, not the Cool-Whip, if only because you can squirt it directly into your mouth, bypassing the need to make dessert at all.

I’ve learned over time that, despite my loving partner’s willingness to play along with my faux-foodie aspirations, there are things she would rather not eat. Capers received a distinctly tepid response; collared greens were NOT the hit I had expected; she’s not into cucumbers, and despite my belief that broccoli and cauliflower are a perfect veggie combo, the cauliflower part leaves her cold.

At first I thought she had some rare psychological trauma involving foods that start with the letter ‘c.’  But it turns out, she’s fine with couscous, and that has two ‘c’s. Bottom line, relationships are about compromise, so I’ve resigned myself to the fact that she’ll never experience my fabulous caper-cucumber crusted cauliflower and collared greens.

We share the finances. Between her underpaid office gig and my freelance gigs, we don’t have a lot of extra cash, so I don’t lobby for a lot of cooking gadgets. Besides, with my long history of clumsiness, some gadgets are out of the question. I’m guessing she’s not planning to buy me an electric knife, for example, since that will simply allow me to cut myself more quickly and efficiently.

There was one kitchen device I really wanted from the first time I saw it. This is a thingamajig so cool, on so many levels, that I would instantly become cooler simply by owning one. You probably alreadyknow what I’m building to here. Yep. It’s a jerky gun.

I’m thumbing through the Fingerhut catalog last week, trying to decide if anything in there would be worth buying at more than retail with predatory interest rates compounded hourly, and then I saw it. A jerky gun. To quote from the catalog:

The one and only Jerky Gun from LEM Products (I think it was invented by NASA!). This item is made to give years of performance (“Kids, this was your great grandpa’s jerky gun…”).

Load the barrel of the Jerky Gun with lean, seasoned ground meat and shoot out flat strips of jerky or round snack sticks (It’s my Second Amendment right to bear arms…that shoot out meat snacks). Barrell will hold 3/4lbs of meat (I’m sure there are street gangs who have illegally modified these to hold a full pound). 

Dry jerky in your oven in as little as 2 1/2 hours or use a dehydrator. Make delicious, tender jerky strips (Or just shoot at the neighbor’s dog and freak him out). Even denture wearers can enjoy this great meat snack (Yeah–maybe ONCE!).

The Jerky Gun comes with a 1/2″ round nozzle, a 1-3/16″ x 3/16″ flat nozzle and a package of Backwoods Jerky Seasoning for 4 pounds of meat. Complete instructions included (C’mon, what red-blooded American isn’t raised from childhood to operate a jerky gun? Why, I remember my stepdad taking me out to the family smokehouse when I was…never mind).

Now this same company also sells a Jerky Cannon and, for you fans of overkill, a Jerky Cannon DOUBLE BARREL!  Now THAT would obviously be ridiculous–the Jerky Gun is all we need. Fifty bucks–yeah, that’s a hard one to pitch–”Hey hon, how was your day? Cool. Listen, I went ahead and put fifty bucks on the card for that jerky gun I was telling you about…honey?”

I’m not sure exactly what her objection was, but she drew the line. Maybe it was just the ‘gun’ part of the concept–and maybe she was worried that if we had one in the house, according to statistics, someone could break in and use our jerky gun against us.

Or it could have been the jerky part. In my excitement over FINDING jerky weaponry, I had forgotten that I actually don’t like jerky, either. I suppose if I were embarking on a month-long wilderness hike, I could use it to break up my diet of nuts and berries, but the idea seems kinda wrong. It’s like saying, “I enjoy the flavor of meat, but I’d like it to be all dried out, and harder to chew.” Or maybe if you need food that you can…mail in an envelope.

I didn’t push very hard for the meat musket. You have to pick your battles when you’re part of a couple. And we’ve learned to negotiate–we respected each other’s opinions, and reached a compromise. I agreed to not buy the Jerky Gun, and she agreed to not let me. It wasn’t anything like that whole ugly Redi-Whip fiasco. Anyway, I figure if I give up on the gun, she’ll give in on the hand-held zester I really need.