I love to cook. I have a menu board in my kitchen which I fill out every weekend after finalizing our meal plan for the week. Seriously.
(You should try it. It makes grocery shopping and meal prepping so much easier and also healthier and also cheaper).
Week-day meals are generally pretty good; we tend to stick to the dishes that are in regular rotation at our house. Things like homemade meatballs, cod-au-gratin, homemade soup and sandwiches or macaroni and cheese. But just in case you think I’m all Martha Stewart/Nigella Lawson over here, I must confess I’ve made two crappy suppers in a row now.
Saturday night was “Enchiladas” wherein I attempted to make my own corn tortillas. Every recipe I read emphasized the importance of a tortilla press. I do not own a tortilla press. So that was one hot mess. What a waste of cheese.
Tonight I made cauliflower wings (which were delicious, as usual: equal parts buttermilk+flour, plenty of garlic or garlic powder and a tablespoon of melted butter. Chop cauliflower into bite-sized pieces. Pour batter overtop, mix to coat, let stand awhile, bake at 375 for 20min or so, remove from oven, toss in favourite sauce – bbq, teriyaki, etc. – and pop back in the oven for a few minutes).
I also made a honey-herbed chicken, which was bland. I know it’s bad when nobody goes for seconds.
A week ago I made a terrible quinoa+chicken+broccoli casserole. Another waste of cheese! Turns out, nobody likes quinoa only me. I ate the leftovers for the next four days.
The week before THAT, I tried making lasagne for supper on Saturday. Except lasagne takes an hour in the oven, and it was coming on bedtime before I had it ready to go. So we ended up ordering pizza. Which is an epic fail in itself, because we generally make our own. (Sylvia at first didn’t want to eat it, and then couldn’t understand the why or the how of somebody bringing pizza to our door.)