On the way home from work, I stopped by Market Street and grabbed the carrots, onions, and olive oil I would need to complete the super-perfect pot roast dinner. I was going to make Florence Nightengale look like the freaking Octomom, this pot roast was going to be so good.
The cashier started scanning my items and I made my way to the credit card swipey thing (yes, that is indeed the technical name for it), digging through my purse in search of my wallet. Wallet...wallet...wa...oooooohhh crap. Not again.
You see, the fact that I didn't have my wallet shouldn't have been a surprise to me. Because just six hours earlier, the same thing had happened at the restaurant where I was picking up my lunch, so my co-worker had to buy my lunch. Because I'm a giant idiot who can't remember to transfer all my stuff from one purse to another.
So I left my stuff there with the poor checkout girl at Market Street and walked out. Jack was not happy when I told him that.
"We hated those people!" he said, having been a Kroger employee all throughout high school and college.
Well, that's really too bad, but it was either that or just grab everything off the counter and run like crazy.
Anyway, eventually I did legally obtain the ingredients for the dinner, and I went home and began to cook it while texting with Rachel for support because REAL INGREDIENTS!? OH THE PRESSURE!!
But I did it. Everything was prepared by 8:30 so I started putting the pot roast into the oven.
Let's see... how long is it supposed to go in? One hour? Two? Um, nope.
"Put the lid on, then roast in a 275-degree oven for 3 hours"
Three hours. That puts us at 11:30. Usually Jack and I eat dinner at about 10 or 10:30. Ut oh.
So I take it out of the oven when he gets home, set the lid to the side, and tested the meat. Not ready yet. I picked the lid back up to put it on the pot and... OOOWWWWWWWWWW!! Holy searing hot ridiculousness, Batman!!
Lesson #3 of the day (the first two being "remember your wallet when you leave the house, dummy," and "hey moron, check the cooking directions before you start the meal"): When a metal lid has been in the oven for two hours, do not touch it with your bare hands. Because pay attention now, it's hot. I KNOW. You learn something new every day.
When I took it out of the oven an hour later, it was cooked, but not as tender as I would have preferred. At that point, though, Jack had already been chewing on the furniture for a half hour, so I had to let him eat. He was pretty excited about that, and he made what he called "pot roast burrito" using the onions as the "tortillas."
(This amused him far more than is socially acceptable.)
It ended up being a great recipe, and I will be making it again (except I'll leave myself enough time to actually roast it in the oven next time!). Though let's be honest. The presentation?
Wasn't exactly the same.