It's cold outside. And it snowed. It took me twice as long to get home Tuesday night because of all the snow. Going 20 on the highway? Not as fun as you might think. I hate you, February, SO MUCH.
So, last weekend Heidi and I tried to make a grown-up dinner. On Saturday, we decided that instead of going out to eat like we normally do on Saturdays (and Fridays and Sundays and sometimes Thursdays), we'd cook the prime rib she'd gotten (free) from work. I wasn't exactly sure what a prime rib was . . . I mean, yeah, I knew it was meat of some sort but that was only because it was thawing all big-hulking-meat style in our sink. It didn't really look that appetizing but the picture on the packaging looked pretty delicious. Luckily, there were also directions on the package so we didn't think we could mess things up TOO much. This coming from the people who couldn't use their oven for three months because the knob was on upside-down.
Heidi: It says to cook it in a roasting pan.
Me: Do we have one of those?
Heidi: I don't know.
Me: Oh, wait! Is this a roasting pan?
Heidi: I don't know.
Heidi: We don't have a meat thermometer, either.
Me: We could buy one.
Heidi: Do you think your parents have one?
Me: Oh yeah! I'll see if we can borrow theirs.
Heidi: Maybe we can ask them if this is a roasting pan, too.
Me: OK. I'll take a picture of it with my phone!
Me: I know. I am all kinds of special.
We ventured over to visit my parents. After showering, though. Because when I told my mom that Heidi and I had worked out Friday night and not showered after and then worked out again Saturday morning and then cleaned the apartment, she said we weren't allowed to come over unless we de-smelled ourselves. Normally I'd be offended but, to be honest, I did smell really, really bad. Anyway. My mom gave us the meat thermometer and also a roasting pan because it turns out the pan I had taken a picture of? Not so much a roasting pan as it was a broiling pan. Yeah.
FINALLY we made it back to our apartment so we could start the prime rib and also make fun of Heidi's boyfriend, who had fallen asleep on the couch watching Spongebob Squarepants. Once that was taken care of, we went to the grocery to buy such important staples as salad, garlic bread, and beer. We got back to our apartment and sat around for a while until it was time to start the baked potatoes and salad. Heidi handled the baked potatoes because that involved the microwave, and the fewer chances I have to break an appliance, the better. Then we checked the prime rib. It still wasn't done. No matter where we stuck the thermometer. OK. No problem! we said. We'd start with our salads like civilized human beings. Only the prime rib still wasn't done when we finished our salads. It wasn't even close to being done. So we turned up the temperature. Half an hour later, it still wasn't done and we were getting so hungry that when we looked at each other, we did not see human friends, we saw human-size steaks covered in delicious delicious steak sauce. Actually, I think Steve did take a bite out of Nick's arm. Don't deny it, Steve! Since it was almost 9 (!), Heidi and I made an executive decision. We were going to replace our main dish of prime rib with, wait for it . . . cheesy brauts, which are really just hot dogs all dressed up. So. Our fancy, grown-up dinner consisted of salad, baked potatoes, and hot dogs (we forgot to make the garlic bread). Which, I'll admit, is kind of lame, but it's still better than serving omelette, blue soup, and marmalade*.
And also? The prime rib, that finally finished cooking around 11, after we'd given up on learning how to play poker but before we made the terrible decision to watch SNL? Was DELICIOUS. Especially after what we had for dessert . . . which was several servings of Miller Lite. Don't judge.
*Yeah. Probably four of you got that. Sorry.