I can be quite compulsive obsessive when it comes to cooking. This usually manifests itself through repeated (obsessive) preparation of a dish that I just “discovered”. When I was thirteen, I made crêpes every day for about a year and although I am nowhere near this bad these days, my husband could tell you some interesting stories… like about the time I discovered Jamie Oliver’s Piri Piri Chicken* and we had it every single night for a week and every single day the dish woud get spicier than the one I made the day before (*do buy this book, by the way, it’s fantastic). Fortunately, the husband has a good sense of humor about it and upon entering the house and smelling the Piri Piri or whatever was the obsession du jour, he’d say something like “You know, I’ve been craving this whole day long, actually, on my ride home I was just thinking how wonderful it would be to have some Piri Piri”. So by the time I got obsessed with quiches of all sorts, he already had his routine down and just silently braced himself for another tasty yet monotonous week. And after a while, something strange yet sweet happened, the intensity of my quiche obsession subsided but the husband still helpfully suggests, at least once a week, that I should make some quiche for dinner. Yup, that’s how tasty it is.