The weekend was BEAUTIFUL! Sunny and warm. We turned off the furnace and opened all the windows. Lovely, just lovely. I woke up on Sunday morning feeling motivated to get outside and clean up the yard. I picked up sticks, pulled weeds, laid mulch, trimmed the shrubbery, scrubbed the outside table and chairs and played with the dogs. All in all I had a pretty productive day. To say I was exhausted would be an understatement. However, we must eat. Now mind you, Jason was asleep the whole time, while I'm slaving away, since he worked the night before. When he wakes up, I ask him would he like steaks on the grill for dinner. He says that sounds great. So off I go to the local Convenient store.
Upon arrival, I realize that everyone else in town must have had the same brilliant idea (a steak cookout) because my only purchasing option was New York Strip Steaks. This is fine by me, I happen to love a good strip steak. However, I know this is a potential problem for the husband as he's a t-bone or fillet lover. But what is a girl to do? The selection was limited. I choose the best looking from the bunch and head home.
When I return to the house, Jason is outside prepping the motorcycle for a ride. He informs me that he's going to pay his aunt a visit and asks when dinner will be ready so he can be back in time. Then comes the conversation I prepared myself for during the 3 minute drive home:
Jason: What kind of steaks did you buy?
Me: Strip steaks.
Jason: (rolls his eyes)
Me: That's all they had.
Jason: I didn't say anything.
Me: You didn't have to, you rolled your eyes.
Jason: It's just that strip steaks don't grill up nicely because they're not that thick. Fillets would have been better.
Me: The steaks are plenty thick enough and they'll be fine.
(Jason makes his way to the refrigerator and pulls out the package of steaks.)
Jason: Where's the meat? This isn't enough?
Me: There is more than enough for the two of us. You always tell me that I don't make enough meat and then you retract your statement after you've eaten by saying how full you are. Stop thinking you always have to eat like a pig.
Jason: This isn't enough.
ME: (I'm angry now) Well, go over to Aunt Francine's house and eat. Maybe she made steak that is the right cut and thickness and cooked properly. I'm going to make this for MYSELF. And it's going to be good!! I'm serious, Jason, I'm not cooking you a steak!
Before he left for his aunt's house, he asked me again when dinner would be ready. In a not very polite way, full of expletives, I promised him that I would not be providing him with dinner in any way, shape or form. I reminded him that what I chose to prepare was not high enough on the "Jason's meat standard list" and he better find some dinner somewhere else. Period.
He left. I cooked MY steak in my favorite Calphalon pan, INSIDE, because now I've been sucked dry of any remaining energy and don't want to wait for the grill to heat up or have to be bothered with running in and out while it cooks.
Dinner was scrumptious. The steak was juicy and cooked to perfection, medium rare. I enjoyed it thoroughly along with a baked potato smothered with butter, sour cream and cheddar cheese. I also prepared myself a nice crisp salad. I ate my dinner, ALONE. And just for the record, I did not finish the steak. I'd eaten about half of it when my belly said it was time to stop. Apparently, the steak WAS big enough.
After dinner, I decided to take a hot bath laced with baby oil to soak my aching muscles and quench my sun dried skin. I've got it all planned out. I can stay in the tub for about 30 minutes and when I'm finished it'll be time to cuddle up in bed to watch the Sopranos before nodding off for the night.
The bath was refreshing for my muscles but relaxing for my mind. I laid down, willing my eyes to stay open just a bit longer so I can catch up with the happenings of Tony and the gang. I never even heard the opening theme song. But somewhere along the way of my blissful dreams, Jason came home. He woke me up asking, "Where's my steak?" I gave him a groggy response of, "Still marinating in the fridge." He said, "You really didn't make me any dinner? I can't believe this!!" I rolled back over, anxious to return to dream-land, thinking...did he really think I wasn't serious? I thought I made myself clear when I told him to eat while he was out. I vaguely remember hearing him in the kitchen cooking the steak he didn't want. This morning, upon further investigation, my suspicion was confirmed when I found the refrigerator void of the supposedly unwanted, not good enough for Jason, steak.
Maybe next time he won't be so damn critical of my choices. Or maybe he'll volunteer to cook dinner (Jason is an excellent cook) to ensure the food is to his liking. Hopefully, he'll just keep his pie-hole shut and be grateful that I even cook. Damn it!