And by Cat I mean: Best Husband Ever. Nevertheless. When left to my own devices, I avoid making dishes. Once when B got back after 3 days gone, I proudly announced that I had dirtied only two tea cups and a spoon. He was not as impressed as I thought he ought to be (the spoon was to eat peanutbutter straight out of the jar). *He* seemed to think that by only making 3 dishes (including no pots, pans, or plates), that I had neglected to eat enough. To that I say: Tcha! (a la Bertie Wooster)
I have many ways to avoid making dishes while B is away and can’t ensure proper eating habits (it’s not that I don’t like food: I *love* food. I’m just…well… easily distracted and dislike dishes). Some are more savory than others (I will admit that the cold hot-dogs were a personal low).
Tonight, I avoided dishes by repairing to Le Pet’t Laurent. I wished Laurent a “bon soir” and settled in to enjoy two glasses of Bordeaux (the ’06 was better than the ’05 despite the year, it must be the maker, or perhaps the grapes), the vegetable (turnip, carrott, various green things with a garnish of parsley) soup (pureed heaven), and the sauteed mahi mahi on a bed of grilled asparagus with a leek-saffron-bourbon sauce. Even though their desserts are lovely, I was too satisfied to push my stomach past “just right” to “ow–but worth it”.
Plus, I wanted to reserve the possibility of brownie batter (although I suspect I will save myself till BCS shows up on Tuesday).
I do love food. (On a related note: B and Junior both think I would make a good restaurant critic because “you wouldn’t hold back”. What does that mean? Am I cruel? Unusual? Persnickitty? All of the above?) Mmmm, Pet’t Laurent. Yay.