DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of DebbieB and is copyright (c) 2000 by DebbieB. This story is Rated PG.
"What is it?"
"It is something special. Don't be afraid. I promise, there is nothing that is going to hurt you."
"Odd? Spock, I swear, I followed the directions to the tee."
"Where did you acquire these directions, Christine?"
"From Martha's Kitchen."
"And are you certain of this Martha's competence as a chef?"
"Certain? Why, Spock, the woman's amazing. She's a dominatrix of domesticity. An iron chef."
"You need not indulge in superlatives."
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to get the plomeek soup right for your birthday."
"I appreciate your efforts, my wife. But would it not have been more logical to consult a Vulcan chef for a plomeek soup recipe? T'Yan, perhaps?"
"Well, it's true. T'Yan can cook, but she's no Martha. I mean, her cookbook didn't have even one design for recycled newspaper centerpieces. What kind of goddess is that?"
"Christine, your taste in such extreme cuisine can be...disconcerting."
"Look, if you're going to insult my cooking..."
"I do not know why you simply did not make arrangements at La Cucina Italiana, as we discussed."
"That dive? Two fat ladies with a penchant for garlic? I don't think so. I mean, sure, you can get fresh cooked eggplant, hot off the grill, but other than that? Noodles and sauce. No, my husband is gonna get a home cooked meal for his birthday, even if..."
"If kills me?"
"You said it, buddy."
"Well, I suppose I will have to make the best of...I mean, I appreciate your sentiment."
"Yup. Just a little more...oregano. Now, taste."
"Yup. Nothing like a home-cooked meal when you want good eats."
"That is true."