I just made the most tasty dinner ever, and I thought of you. Isn't that nice? The main reason I sat down to type this blog is because I'm so full I can't do chores and if I sit on the couch, I'll be out like a light...and it's only 7. But let's go with "Isn't that nice?". I wish I was a little more Pioneer Woman-ish, but I didn't think to take any pics. Until now. And now it's all half eaten (ok, all gone) and there are dirty dishes and shiny, full faces. It'd be gross. Besides, if you read the Twilight series first, then watched the movies, you'll agree that sometimes your imagination is WAY better than 'real' life.
Roast. Roast Beef. Roast Beast. Roast and Taters. Call it what you want, everytime I have it, I think to self "Why, oh why don't you make this more often?". Then my rear-end answers, but we won't get into that. Can't claim that I invented this concoction, but my momma might have, and I paid attention...get ready, it's super complicated.
I make mine in a crock pot. Start with a roast. Salt and pepper every visible side. Plop it in the pot. Next, half some potatoes (today I used fingerlings). Then quarter an onion or shallot or whatever you have. Open a bag of already peeled and clean tiny carrots. Throw all that in there around the hunk of meat. Salt and pepper the veggies. Put it on low, cover it, and WALK AWAY. That part is the nicest and, in about 5 hours, the hardest part of this recipe! The end. I heart beef.
Baklava. I know. Pretty fancy. Worth every stinking minute. I had some phyllo dough in the freezer from one of our cooking/freezer days and the recipe on the back of the box was for baklava. If you haven't had this, I'm sorry. If you have, loved it, and didn't know you could make it at home. I'm sorry again. I'm sorry because, it's almost swimsuit season, and I may not be around the same pool you are with my baklava backside to make yours look better. Be careful. Don't be like me. Have a normal person size serving. It's ok if the remaining isn't "squared off". If your hubs wants some, make him get it himself - you can't be trusted. Oh my. Worth. Every. Calorie.
Drifting off into my diabetic coma...