For quite some time I've had my suspicions about my husband and another woman. I told myself their relationship was harmless. After all, he came home every night after work. And I never found lipstick on his collar. But I suppose the wife's the last to know.

I should have seen it coming. Each night when he turned on the television, he would scroll down the programs he recorded the night before. Before he made his selection, he slowly looked over the program list; he massaged the remote control buttons — then he pointed and clicked.

Donny Osmond might as well have been singing, "And they called it puppy love." He smacked his lips, and his stomach growled. How could I have been so naive? All the signs were there: His decrease in appetite (I thought it was a mealtime strategy to lose weight), him wanting to do the grocery shopping each week. Ohmygod. He had red sauce on his T-shirt last Wednesday. I haven't made red sauce in over a month!

There she was … the other woman making mini-meatloaves in ramekins and macaroni and cheese with scallops. My husband snapped his fingers at me and said, "Get me a pen and piece of paper. I wanna write this down." He's never spoken to me like that.

Someone once wrote, "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." It's true. That's how Rachael Ray stole my man away from me. Women, don't let her bright smile and chirpy EVOO voice fool you — she's a man-eater.

Seducing men with ham dip on a Ritz Cracker … she should be ashamed of herself. It's one thing for me to have her in my kitchen, but sneaking into my kitchen with her "Classic Rachael Ray 30-Minute Meals" and "Rachael Ray 365: No Repeats" when I'm not home — the nerve of her.

It's all out in the open now. My husband came home the other day with two large bags of groceries. "I'm cooking dinner tonight," he announced. He had printed off Rachael Ray's recipes for Mac & Seafood Au Gratin and Mini Meatloaves With Tomato-Balsamic Gravy. He never told me he liked meatloaf.

Each recipe called for at least 17 ingredients. How can I compete with that? It took me three years to step off from making taco salads and move on to something more substantial like Sloppy Joes. But I wasn't ready to throw in the spatula just yet. One thing I have over Rachael Ray, I know my way around my kitchen.

"Where's the salt? I need a baking sheet. Where do you keep the knives?"

Ahh. He needs me. "Do you want some help?"

"Sure."

He made me his assistant cook. In a bossy tone he said, "Here. Chop this red onion."

Before my eyes could tear from the onion he cried out, "No. No."

"What? What did I do?"

"You're doing it all wrong. Let me show you how it's done." And with his fingers in downward facing dog position he chopped the onion. He threw a kitchen towel over his shoulder. In true gourmet fashion he flipped, tossed, sprinkled and stirred. Pots boiled and skillets sizzled setting off the kitchen's smoke alarm. Who is this man?

He demoted me from assistant cook to gofer. "Go get this. Stir that. Always keep your prep area clean. Wipe my forehead." I'm no longer in my kitchen, but Hell's Kitchen, and I pray for Gordon Ramsay to rescue me. Now he's EV-OH-OH.

Two hours later, we ate the 30-minute meal. My husband ate the entire softball-size meatloaf and two helpings of the Mac & Seafood Au Gratin. Even though he forgot to add Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce and Dijon mustard to the Mac & Seafood Au Gratin — probably important ingredients. I told him it tasted great anyway. Score one EVOO point for me.

"That was a lot of work," he exclaimed. "Too many ingredients. And it cost more than 50 bucks, too." Hum. Could it be that my husband loves Rachael Ray's cooking but is not in love with cooking it anymore?

"I'll cook dinner tomorrow night," I said. "I'll cook Gordon Ramsay's Tartare of Scallop with Caviar recipe." YUM-O.

To find out more about Mimi Kopulos and read her past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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