Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Himalayan Salt Stone
Sometimes my husband has the tendency to hype things up. Sure, usually his excitement is somehow validated by me … after I methodically try out whatever it is he is hyped about. I eventually cave in and say those dreaded words, “Yes you were right,” but there is one thing I just can’t get too hyped up about: the Himalayan Salt Stone.
For my birthday/Christmas I like to ask for something practical and something fun. For example, this birthday I asked for a shampooer and New Moon. (I know it’s pathetic.) If I got nothing but these two things, I would have been a very happy girl, but Danny always likes to throw in a little surprise. His surprise is usually thoughtful and different, but from the heart. I find it very sweet, and he usually does a pretty good job…that was until this birthday.
The problem wasn’t so much in the gift itself (well maybe a little), but in the effort Danny put into making me think this was the best gift ever. He taunted me by saying things like, “This is the best gift ever,” “You don’t even know it exists, but you want it,” and “You are going to pee your pants when you open it.” I couldn’t help but guess…A puppy? A new outdoor light fixture? Something covered in polka dots? Bacon of the Month Club? The answer was always no, because of course, I know these exist.
My birthday came around, and after waiting all day for Danny to come home, I was finally able to open my present. He wanted to record my reaction, I refused because something in the back of my head told me it may not be the reaction he wanted.
My little voice was correct. I opened it up to find a large pinkish crystal looking block. “What is it?” I asked. “A Himalayan salt stone!” replied Danny. He went on to explain how once it is heated up it cooks amazing meat… okay I do like meat. Danny then explains how some guy online said it made the best steak ever. As Danny goes on about how the salt stone is going to change our lives, I tasted it: Salty. Danny then told me not to lick it because I’m not a horse.
My reaction wasn’t quite what Danny wanted it to be. No peeing of the pants. No jumping up and down. No calling my friends to tell them the amazing present my husband got me. What I did say was, “Well you can’t hit them all out of the park Danny.” Feeling bad that I let that slip out of my mouth, I said “Well, I do like meat. So it was thoughtful.” He asked again if I liked it. I said, “It’s fine.” Ouch.
In disbelief that I wasn’t amazed by the salt stone, he promised me some amazing steak. This, I was up for. Maybe just maybe, the salt stone would redeem itself.
The salt stone not only didn’t redeem itself, it sunk further into my list of things that do not excite me. (Which include: Waking up early, deveining shrimp, U2, and annual Dr. visits.) First off it takes about 45 minutes to preheat. It also says on the directions that it makes amazing eggs. I’m pretty sure 45 more minutes of sleep is much more amazing than any salt stone egg. As Danny made the steak, the juices spilled over the edge causing small bursts of flames from our electric (yes electric) stove top. Danny had to put out several small kitchen fires. When the steaks were done, there was a lovely mess to clean up. I had to buy new burner plates it was so bad. And the main reason for all of this hassle, the “amazing” steaks, well they were just really salty steaks. Don’t get me wrong, I like salt, but I don’t want to wake up swollen like a marshmallow from an unhealthy amount of dietary sodium.
Danny later tried to impress me with the fact that the piece of salt stone was approximately 250 million years old. Apparently everything doesn’t get better with age.
So the salt stone is now put away in a cool dry place, until I decide to try the recipe from the pamphlet that says, “Impress your Jewish grandmother with Gravlax.” The pamphlet suggests that eventually when the salt has worn down to use it in your bath as a spa treatment. I’m not sure how the meat remnants will help my skin or if I want them to.
I should try to redeem myself, before I sound too much like an ungrateful whining wife. I may not love the salt stone. I may not love the super salty steak. I may not love replacing stove top burners. And I may not love meat remnant baths. But I love that Danny has enthusiasm not only for salt stones, but for life itself, and that is an amazing gift.