Some weeks, you’re just on a roll in some aspects of your life (hint: it’s not school – on Thursday, I spent ten minutes arguing with the girl at the print desk who would NOT let me pay for my 7 cent paper because I had to have a DOLLAR to buy a print card, and my fifty cents would not cut it. Also, my credit card? No good. But I couldn’t LEAVE without paying for my paper either. What a nightmare. Why not take my fifty cents, give me a print card and cross off half of it. This ain’t rocket science, folks).
Um, whew. My roll this week is cooking. I’ve been a domestic freakin’ goddess.
Last Sunday, I made this shepherd pie recipe (with ground turkey instead of lamb because lamb = murder (just kidding, of course; the real equation is lamb = gross)).
On Monday, I put this mac and cheese together and had Bart put it in the oven so it was all ready for me when I got home from school at nine p.m. (he didn’t like it, so I’m not recommending this recipe; my mom made it last week, though, and said the family liked it, so I have no idea whether or not you will).
On Tuesday, I made my first ever non-Cream of Chicken Soup enchiladas. And they were amazingly good. Also? Delicious the next day as leftovers.
On Thursday, I am in school most of the day, so I did this crockpot recipe and we made tacos with them (complete with homemade guacamole, otherwise know as the tastiest and most fattening way to get your vegetables). I also made some apple syrup to go with our breakfast pancakes.
I didn’t cook on Friday since we had dinner at the airport with my dad and on Saturday we had the rest of the crockpot pork tacos and later I made some rhubarb muffins (depressingly ho-hum). Tonight Bart made meatloaf and mashed potatoes.
And right now, I’m waiting for a pan of chocolate lemon bars to cool. We’ll see how they are (it was basically the only recipe I could find that I had all the ingredients for on hand).
I’m a bit worried, though, that I’ve set a bar for myself that I will never ever ever ever be able to leap again. If that’s the case, I’ll erase this post so that Bart has no proof that I ever was cooking a big dinner every night. And don’t you remind him either.