After last night’s heavy meal, I decided to cook something a bit lighter.
Chicago deep dish: a dough made from flour, cornmeal, salt, yeast, and a stick of butter. Roll it out and spread it across a cast iron pan, and then top it with cheese, sausage, bacon, red onion, a spicy marinara sauce, and more cheese.
I recommend taking LA Fly Guy’s excellent dietary advice and balancing it out with a side of red wine and brown liquor.
My wife ate the salad.
It was one star at best.
The salad. Not the deep dish.
Tomorrow: prime rib.
The “This is so unhealthy” complaints are gradually getting louder and more persistent, and they should crescendo by Wednesday.
Good news: it will be quite a while before my wife says, “I’m tired of cooking all the time. Why don’t you cook this week?”
Bad news: it will be quite a while before my wife says, “I’m tired of cooking all the time. Why don’t you cook this week?”