Ugh. I was so excited last night. We went away for four days, both the hubby & I sick but soldiering through, and now that we were home I thought a delicious home cooked meal was in order. He was at work all evening, giving me plenty of time to mess around in the kitchen and come up with something.
I went out to the garden and dug up some of the sieglinde potatoes we’d planted, along with a couple red peppers, hit the grocery store for some brown mushrooms and had visions of deliciousness dancing in my head. I scoured the internet for what sounded like the best amalgamation of all the awesome fried chicken recipes out there, because that’s one of his favourite things. This was going to be an epic meal of mouth watering comfort food!
Instead, it was awful!
I left the vegetables on the grill for too long so they were burnt and horribly dried out at the same time. Completely inedible. The chicken was bland and it tasted greasy. Massive let down.
It’s one thing to ruin a meal.
It’s another thing to ruin what you meant to be a treat for your sick husband.
It’s a whole other level to watch a man who cooks for a living pretend to enjoy every single bite of the horrible food that you made for him, just because you made it. Even when you tell him to throw it out because it’s awful.
Watching him eat, I was really embarrassed.
Thinking about it today, I’m a pretty lucky girl.