Joe McGinnis was right

Sarah is a lousy cook and household manager.

From Esquire (the May 2009 issue)

The two scramble out from underneath the sled, wipe their hands on rags. They're in a big garage, Scott's, in a little town called Soldotna, a couple hundred miles southwest of Wasilla. Todd woke up at 4:00 this morning, drove three and a half hours to get here. In a few hours, he'll get back into his Jetta, grab some food to go from Taco Bell, and drive back to Wasilla. It's Saturday, and his wife's got Trig. She took him and the rest of the kids to a basketball tournament that Willow, their middle daughter, is competing in. Todd would have liked to go to the game as well, but he knows this is important, too. Everybody's gotta have that one thing that they're really into, that belongs to them, that they really like to do. And one of the deals in his marriage is that they've gotta support each other in whatever it is that the other really likes to do. So Todd steps up, does the extra work around the house, puts out the fires that need putting out so Sarah can pursue her political career. And then she, and the rest of the family, understand that this time of year, Todd's gonna duck out of town when he can and spend a day with Scott, working on their sleds.

Todd digs around in his fridge, looking for something to eat. He'd asked the kids to pick up bread yesterday, but it looks like they forgot. You can divide up duties, delegate, set up whatever system you want, but sometimes things still don't get done. And unless you want an ulcer, you come to terms with that. He grabs a brick of cheddar cheese and a disk of sliced bologna from the fridge, a box of Ritz crackers and a can of Campbell's tomato soup from a cabinet, and a can opener and a spoon and a knife from a drawer. He makes cheese-and-bologna cracker sandwiches, which are almost as good as cheese-and-bologna bread sandwiches, and eats them standing up, while he heats the soup on the stove. He likes to cook, knows a great recipe for salmon stew, but it's hard to find the time. His favorite food is something called akutaq. Eskimo ice cream. You take lard and sugar and beat it till it's creamy, then throw in a bunch of salmonberries. His grandmother taught him how to make it. She still sometimes calls him the Akutaq Kid. He never learned how to speak Yupik, her native language. He wishes he would've, but that's the way it is sometimes.