Last night's dinner was awful. It was the worst thing I have made since I lived in Milledgeville and tried to cook noodles in the spaghetti sauce before spilling thyme in the crockpot. The noodles were red and chewy. There was zip in the sauce department. The thyme was crunchy.
And last night's dinner hit the hall of fame, replacing my worst meal ever.
It was That Bad. Just in case you were curious how I knew it was that bad, let me tell you: When your husband remarks that he feels a little like Cousin Eddie eating Christmas turkey, your suspicions are confirmed.
I tend to be more critical of my cooking than Husband [who eats tuna from a can and is totally cool with fat free sliced cheese]. What chef isn't? Well, critical as I may be-- there was no saving last night's dinner. Eternally cheap and often mistaken as being from The Oldest religion, I actually threw out the leftov.... wait, let me rephrase that: I asked Husband to please throw out the leftovers [before I could figure out some way to recycle them into a "better" dish.]
He obliged. I did not argue. Chicken fingers were forged for LMC and Husband. Wife decided to do penance and go to bed hungry.... Who am I kidding? I had a turkey sandwich, which is really the greatest meal ever.