I prepped a batch of dough last night not knowing what things it would become.
This morning I went through the chest freezer and found some stew beef. Not the right meat for Italian beef but I knew I could make it work.
I did a quick thaw to break it up and got started while baking the bread. Seven hours later I was taking the briny liquid and making it into a gravy to top my fries with.
The meat was free back when I inherited it.
Cost per person: $3.20 If I had to buy the meat it would have been closer to $9 per person.
That’s sounds like cultural appropriation. Things are already rough between Canada and the US. I don’t want to create an internal incident with bastardized poutine.
But “Italian beef” is perfectly fine.
I’m Italian.
I now understand why the kitchen is yours.
My kitchen. My Dune.
Well if you ever invite me for dinner, it’s either because you really like me, or want to prove your sauce is better than mine.
If someone pays for the supplies and isn’t a picky eater I’ll have almost anyone over as long as they aren’t wearing a red hat.
Hats ruin my hair. What’s for dinner?
There’s zero money in the bank so I’m thinking this week is going to be pretty much all chili with cornbread and pasta with crusty bread. I have to thaw some venison.