Well...we know what happened earlier this month....it kind of put a damper on my cooking plans all month. Oh well...not one to be put off by a thing so minor as the inability to stand without a goodly amount of assistance...I employed The Fussy Eater as my kitchen minion for Easter Supper.
Then it hit me. Within minutes of releasing this post I was hit with a horrid, horrid...something (I'm sure some are claiming it to be Beanie's revenge for making him wear the ears). I'm calling it a cold...others are calling it something else. Whatever it was (and still is), it knocked me out quite nicely. When my darling dearest arrived, I was bundled on the chesterfield, fading in and out of consciousness...knowing what sort of state I was in, he came bearing chocolates and Cepacol lozenges.
I'd simplified my menu after my tumble...I simplified it even more after I realized I had caught something. Prime rib from my favourite butcher, garlic mashie, peas, onion jus, horseradish and Dijon sauce and a gingery-jammy raisin bread pudding for a sweet.
My darling does cook--he makes a very nice pasta and a lovely lasagne...not to mention a very potent sherry trifle. He was nervous about entering my kitchen...I didn't know why, nor did I know what he was expecting...the knives are sharp, but they don't have minds of their own...and it's not as if it was a complicated menu....sigh...men...
The Fussy Eater was a very apt minion, he carried out the instructions wonderfully. Everything was nicely done and delicious. I'm trying to convince him for an encore performance...
I normally take a whole slew of photos for a Feast posting; quite honestly, the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. I had enough energy for two pictures and then ate some supper, nibbled on some pudding and then fell asleep.
Before the nonsense: 44 cups; 3 free coffees, 1 free doughnut
Now: 43 cups, 7 free coffees