I almost killed Mrs. Plant tonight.
Not on purpose, of course.
I guess they all say that…
For some time since turkey bacon and a Rabbi telling her, “No chicken ever nursed its chick”, I have been wishing to make some of these.
We have Bubonic Plague, and her call on the Husband Location Device, aka “cell phone” consisted of a croaked request to bring home bottled water. She is Not From Around Here. But I digress.
At any rate, I saw one of those huge sirloins that would have fed both of us, Penny the dog and her canine smaller friends on sale because they were going to throw it out.
And, some Jalapeno peppers.
She proved to be somewhat recovered upon seeing the steak.
My plan was to cook the Jalapeno pepper cream cheese fake bacon thingies in time for me to eat before dinner lest I consume meat and dairy at the same time. Things rarely time out correctly when I grill. It’s part of that Southern “Cooking must be dangerous” thing.
Anyway, I took the JPCCFBTs out of the oven, and, quite distinctly told my Woman of Valor, “I had planned that I would eat these before dinner, but it’s not working out. I will eat them later this evening.” Then * I* went out to check the steak on the grill.
Besides, I figured a Blind Monogloid would recognize a jalapeno pepper, turkey bacon or not.
Big mistake.
When I came back in she was screaming repeatedly, “Jesus Christ!” (Did I mention that we are Jewish?) “What did you feed me!”
Explanations and excuses were in vain; she couldn’t talk to bless the wine, and I had to take the “sell it while they’ll still buy it” steak back to the grill to rewarm it.
She is still chug a lugging bottled water.