stop the world…I cooked

And by that, I mean I cooked real food. As in, a real menu.

As in: Beef Wellington.

Yes, I know it’s amazing. Believe me, no one is as amazed as me. Well, maybe John, who was rather pleased, and that, my friends, was the whole point.

After almost two weeks of phoning it in as a less than mediocre homemaker, I pulled out the pearls and <gasp> Martha Stewart (I will deny this tomorrow), and proceeded to have a rather lovely afternoon in the kitchen being creative in all kinds of new ways.

I could do this again.

In a very long time. That bottle of  Clos du Bois from earlier this week was for me.


Every night it’s the same conversation:

himself: what’s for dinner?

moi: what would you like?

himself: chateaubriand

moi: try again

himself: beef wellington

moi: um…mac and cheese?

himself: gross!

moi: spaghetti?

himself: nah.

Every night. I got nuthin. Anybody got a recipe for beef wellington?