Never trust a skinny, or sober, chef

We decided to cook our own anniversary dinner. Since a base was stolen during a World Series game, Taco Bell gave away a free taco to each person today that came in from 2-6PM. So we got the tacos and gave them to the kids, and then made ourselves a kick-A dinner.

Steak, pan roasted potatoes, corn, garlic bread (couldn't go a day without scorching something) and Pioneer Woman's Whiskey Glazed Carrots OH.MY.LORD. those carrots are good. I am SOOO making this for some get together or another...I must share this glorious gift. When I was cleaning up, I couldn't help but slurp the glaze. It was THAT good.


While shopping for the steaks, I wandered down Publix's wine aisle in search of a Pinot Grigio Veneto since Devildog's sister gave me a yummy bottle last Christmas from a winery in South Carolina. I ended up with some Barefoot Pinot Grigio in the little bottles. I figured since I love the White Zin, the other offerings would be worth trying.


So I was drinking while cooking, and cooking with alcohol to boot.

And now you see why I was slurping the glaze?

So if you have a skinny chef, at least make sure they're drunk-just a little so there aren't accidents of drunken stupidity. And of course, since the other chef was not skinny and hasn't been since 1997, and he was following a method found on page 84 of Weber's Real Grilling, it was all good. He didn't need to be drunk, but he did have some beer while he cooked. Who knows, maybe it was a sacrificial beer for the good of the beef.

Now this is the kind of stuff I like. Cheezoid things like cooking dinner with my husband, rather being left isolated in the kitchen while he was electronically entertained, are sometimes fun and/or interesting. There may be hope for us yet. So, since I'm still in a bit of a food coma, here is my picture of my consumption on the pretty plates I scored at the thrift store. They actually match the remaining few pieces china my grandmother managed not to break in a fit of rage so it could be left to me and my little younger sister.


The steak looks burnt, but it is indeed not. That is from the rub used in the preparation for grilling the steak. This steak was ohmygawddelicious. Devildog said it tasted like a steak from Longhorn. I wouldn't know, or remember. I think the last time I had a steak from there, it was still blinking and my kids were not cooperative. I don't like meat that still moves, makes noise or even blinks. I want insurance that it's dead. Devildog didn't fail me on this one either. It's especially sweet of him, since I failed to avoid burning his bread. Persnickety wonders why I hover when I cook, and it's because I have ADD and will get sidetracked and burn something. Like the garlic bread. And since Devildog won't go near carrots unless they're microplaned into a salad or baked into cake, I gave him my bread that he didn't need. We both left food on our plates. We'll enjoy lunch tomorrow.