Stop, Drop, and Roll

Due to the events of the last couple of nights, today's dinner started off with a gallon of Kool-Aid rather than wine; hydration is key to having (read: surviving) a good dinner. However, only one cook subscribed to the "Kool-Aid as hydration theory," and the other instead started off the night with another two bottles of wine, seemingly to forget about the debauchery of the weekend (i.e. spending the last two nights with all married couples, which in turn led to copious amounts of alcohol consumption to feel good about being the only two single people in the entire bar full of smug marrieds).

We would now like to introduce the third cook of the night, who is neither broke nor single. But, keeping in the tradition of our dinners, she procured gifts from the discount cart of wine at the local Drug Town; thus, we welcomed her with open arms, and she has forever secured a place in our blog.

And thank God she was here. She prevented the grass from lighting aflame when someone kicked over the chimney, spilling red-hot coals onto the one dry patch of grass in the entire yard. She raced upstairs, filled an empty bottle of wine with water, and saved our lives, our renters' insurance, and our possible eviction. Perhaps this process would have gone more quickly had she filled a bowl instead of a bottle with water, but she wanted to prove her MacGyver-like resourcefulness. Good thing we had plenty of empty bottles around.

Tonight chronicles our second experience playing with fire. We decided that kabobs are child's play. We wanted something...bigger. We were hungry, hungry for meat. Keeping in tradition, we went straight to the bargain bin (we're broke, remember?) and came up with 12-ounce rib-eyes.

After scoping out (okay, stalking) the hot medical students at the coffee shop all week, we thought we knew their schedules by heart and, since the apartment is two blocks from the med school, we were certain they would jog past during our perfectly-planned grilling session. Alas, the only meat we saw aside from our 12-ounce rib-eyes was a 65-year-old man walking his growling Golden Retriever.

We seasoned the steaks with a mixture from a 2004 stocking stuffer of "bread dipping spices." Topping off the meat is a madeira and mushroom sauce, roasted cherry tomatoes with basil, spinach sauteed in garlic, and, of course, garlic bread. (We're single, remember; we can eat as much garlic as we want.)