May I Just Say . . . ?

You see that?  That right there?

You may see it as a disgusting-looking glob of meat, cheese and vegetables . . .
but I see it as a gourmet meal of grass-fed beef mixed with onions (from my farm class) and garlic sauteed in olive oil, interspersed with steamed acorn squash and a sprinkling of feta and seasoned with some Tequila Lime seasoning (no, I don't know what that is, either; but it was the closest jar in the spice cupboard).

At any rate, I COOKED, despite the fact that Bee has been out of town this weekend.  Usually his absence at dinner time sends me into panic mode, and I end up cooking peanut butter and jelly or Papa John's pizza for dinner.  And, well, OK . . . I did that, too.  But on Friday night I cooked up cauliflower, broccoli, beets, beet greens, and onions, all from the farm, and today I cooked the meal above.

Sure, I haven't even tasted the meal yet . . . so it may just be nasty crap.

But don't I at least get an 'A' For Effort?

I think this qualifies me for a pardon from my other transgressions.

(this doesn't show the carton of Phish Food I'd polished off the night before.  Thanks for the coupon, J.S.!)