It all started off okay. I brought home these scrumptious looking mushrooms and sauteed them with a medium size onion. Then I threw in some potatoes. I was totally channeling Food Network tonight.
The steaks were beauties. I Montreal Steak Season’ed them just so and threw them into the fire. Bam! I said in homage to the awe-inspiring Emeril Lagasse who can make dirt taste like dessert (okay so, that was a bit of a stretch).
They sizzled. They crackled. They smelled sooooo good.
It was almost time.
I took them off the fire and arrayed the steaks ever so delicately on the plate, surrounded by succulent wisps of the sauteed mushroom/onion combo and potatoes.
Voila! Dinner was served.
I took my fork and knife and proceeded to cut. And still proceeded to cut. And…it wouldn’t cut. After a sweaty minute, I managed to pry a cube loose from the rest of the (concrete?) slab.
Attempting to chew it turned out to be a big mistake as it triggered my somewhat dormant TMJ.
But I would not be deterred. I had been mooning over this steak for the better part of the afternoon and it would be making its way down my digestive tract come hell or high water!
I soldiered on and managed to consume about half of it.
“Yeah! I’ll show you chewy steak. You think I’m scared of you and your ability to take out my fillings just because you got a little (okay ALOT) overcooked. Hah!” I screamed only half-wondering if my neighbors happened to be staring out their window at the crazy lady next door yelling at a piece of meat.
Sadly, I don’t know where it all went wrong. Perhaps I had the racks in the wrong place. Or, more likely than not, I left them in a bit too long. Or a combination of both. Whatever the reason i was sufficiently bummed
And tonight, as I sit here nursing my achy jaw and wounded pride, I wonder what compelled me to keep going after that first piece as opposed to chucking it in the garbage right way.
Ah well. Another one of life’s trivial mysteries.
But tomorrow night? In case you haven’t guessed yet… Chew On This takeout.