Be My Valentine?

Tonight's the big night. I plan on cooking a gourmet-esque meal for my Giraffe and I'm praying it turns out alright. Lately I've been getting pretty cocky about my cooking abilities because I haven't screwed up in a long time. I've done chicken parmesan with pizazz, sides with flair, and nothing has managed to burn too bad. So last night, the Fates decided to let me have it and knock me down a peg or two. I knew the goodness couldn't last forever.



I've been wanting to make patty melts for a while now because the place I frequent for lunch, which is conveniently located right across the street from work, makes some really good ones. So I do the responsible thing and eat there a couple of times a week getting this patty melt. For research purposes of course. The calories don't count if it's for research. Anyway, I decide on my plan of attack and get to work. I take some ground beef, mix in some Worcestershire sauce and seasonings, and broil the meat. Then I begin browning the pieces of bread in some butter in a skillet to make them nice and crispy. Finally, I sauté some onions and cover them with aluminum foil to make them sweat and become not so crunchy. Everything's going very well at this point.



When it's time to assemble the sandwich, I wanted the cheese to be all gooey and melty, so I popped them back in the oven for a few minutes. I keep checking the sandwiches and the cheese isn't melting like I want it to. Giraffe's thin Swiss was melting fine, but my thicker American cheese wasn't. Idea! I'll turn the broiler on to get the job done. I keep an eye on the melts and check them after a minute, and still not melty enough. I open the oven door again a minute or two later, and my patty melts are on fire. The top piece of bread is completely ablaze, so I very calmly shut the oven door and turn to Giraffe. "Our sandwiches are on fire." We open the door back up and he, because I wasn't doing anything, decides to blow on the sandwiches; however, his "gust" of wind could've barely put a candle out. So I just stare at him and said, "Do you realize how ridiculous you look right now?" "Nope." So while he's laughing at himself, I grab the pot holder and pull them out. The top piece of bread is completely charred, but the rest of the melt looks fine. So we decide to just do another piece of top bread. I get the skillet and butter back out and begin again. Then, to add insult to injury, as I was pressing on the final piece of bread in the pan, hot butter came up through a hole in the bread and burnt my right index and middle finger. So then I hop around the kitchen in pain wondering, "Why I am so inept?!"


After dinner, I tried for redemption. I went back to what I know: baking. In celebration of Valentine's Day at the office, I made red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. I even made little hearts on wax paper to refrigerate and place on top of the cupcakes. I made them too thin, so I ended up just drawing them on the cupcakes when they were done.

Now, I'm spooked about tonight and am working with slightly burned index and middle fingers on my right hand. I hope those of you who are planning on cooking for your valentines tonight have great luck and don't burn anything, food or person.

Happy Valentine's Day!