Eight-hour pork roast, roasted brussels sprouts, mashed potatoes.
Valentine's Day is lame; I think we can all agree on that.
Unfortunately, Valentine's Day is also Chuck's birthday, every single year. So we always have to do something nice on the 14th of February. And by we, I mean me.
So I had planned to make a gorgeous dinner tonight. Pork tenderloin roasted for eight hours until it is fall-apart delectable. Mashed potatoes with a hint of buttermilk. A really lovely pinot noir.
The tenderloin went in the oven by 10 a.m., as planned. Then at 4:30 in the afternoon, I had to take Eli to the urgent care clinic. And at 6:00, after he had thrown up on me and scared the nurse with his fever, after he had turned bright red and blotchy, after he had cried for an hour nonstop, but before we had even a hint that there might be a doctor in our near future, Chuck had to finish dinner for Josh and Alex.
Imagine the selfish nerve of those two, demanding a timely meal on their father's birthday?!
Anyway, Chuck acquitted himself beautifully. The brussels sprouts were perfect, the mashed potatoes were better than I would have done. So foodwise, the evening actually came out very nicely. And that pinot was delicious.