Big Chef was grumpy and morose after the failure of Granmama’s Beef Enchiladas.
At least nephew Brian seemed to like it. He had second portions. (Brian is an ultra-marathon man and sees food as fuel. If it is not just awful, he will eat with gusto, all the time thinking of his upcoming 30 mile sprint, a preparatory saunter for the Boston Marathon in Spring '11.) (Translation: Beef Enchilada was edible and healthy. Brian came in fifth at his 30 Mile Saunter the next day.)(Brian was up before the crack of dawn and I should have made him a breakfast sandwich to-go as a snack before the race, but I just slept through the tiny click of the front door as Brian slipped out in pre-dawn dim. The dogs heard him, ‘though.)(Nothing gets passed the dogs.)
Big Chef analyses that the failure can be placed at the feet (foot?) of our new Grand Cuisinart, purchased that morning. It is a Cadillac with big engine. Just a few pulses almost liquefied the onions. Yes, it did. Onions needed to be chopped to chunky-sized bits.
Redemption. Pot Roast on Sunday. Wonderful. Marvelous. Perfection.
Sioux Chef made grilled home-grown tomatoes, white onions, and asparagus. Flashed on the nuclear grill. (I singed my bangs on starting the little monster. But it looks good.) (It does. Yes. Looks good.)
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