Saturday, January 17, 2015

I made dinner (again), Anthony concerned that he might die

When I die, my tombstone should have two words under my name:  "He tried".

I try to do a lot of things. My level of success is usually a total crapshoot. My career has survived thanks to trying. My cooking doesn't have as much success associated with it as my work.

Tonight I tried to make dinner again. I haven't made dinner for both Anthony and I very many times in the six years we've known each other. He never really comes out and says it, but I think he believes that the food I make will somehow make him sick... or kill him.

Tonight I made beef tenderloin steak, a stuffed baked potato, and corn. For dessert, a caramel apple tart with ice cream.

The last time I cooked him a steak, he told me that he likes it more red in the middle than I made it that day. So, today I made it between rare and medium rare. That was a disaster. He said it was cold, and not cooked enough. A heated discussion (some people would call it an argument, but I don't think it reached that level) ensued where I told him I made it the way he said he wanted it based on the last steak I prepared and his comments about that piece of meat. His response was that it was raw, cold, and it needed to be cooked more. So, back into the oven it went.  I can't win.

So far, seven hours later as I write this, he hasn't shown signs of food poisoning or death. I may have gotten away with not killing him with my cooking, again.

Stuffed baked potato, steak, and corn
prepared with love by Ken Carr.
Anthony wondered if it would
be his last meal.

Caramel apple tart, vanilla ice cream,
and sea salt caramel sauce.
Anthony wondered if it would
be his last dessert.