Posted by: Katie | February 17, 2014

what’s cookin good lookin?

I have a love-hate relationship with my crock pot. Ha, I lie. I have a tolerate-hate relationship with my crock pot. I keep pulling it out and trying recipes (from cookbooks, from Pinterest, from friends), and I keep being taunted all day long (ALL day long!!) with yummy smells, only to wind up having a giant jumble of ugly and not-much-better-tasting crap for my efforts. But hope springs eternal… one day I will master the art of slow cooking in crockery.

Today was going to be a practice day. It’s Monday, which means Family Dinner Night, or FDN as we ‘say’ in text (we have lots of acronyms, acronyms are fun). That means my little family will be getting together with our bestest of friends for a bunch of eating, games, singing, and chuckling at the toddlers. 3 families, every Monday. 2 men, 3 women, 3 “big kids” and 2 toddlers. Needless to say, it takes a LOT of food to keep this brood from going hungry… well, it just so happens that I had a giant hunk of pork loin in my deep freezer. I pulled it out last night, but it was still frozen almost solid this morning. My friend H (tonight’s hostess and freakin’ amazing cook) asked if I planned on doing the cooking or if she needed to grab the meat. “Nah, I got this!” I replied. “Uh, how should I do this?”* I replied again, almost before text 1 went through.

Enter: the dreaded crock pot.

Except, guess what? This 3 pound hunk of meat didn’t fit in either of my crock pots. Wahhh! Now what? “Stick it in the oven on low,” the cooking guru tells me. “Toss in some rub or sauce, a splash of vinegar, and cover it up, and let it cook on low all day.” So that’s how I’ve come to be laying in bed at almost 11am (don’t judge, I’ve been up and active and productive since 7, I’m taking a rest!), starting to faintly be able to smell roasting meat. It’s stronger the closer you get to the kitchen, and the more I smell it, the hungrier I get.

All this means when Michael gets home, I’ll be loading a super hot Dutch oven into the car & heading out, hoping that I’ve managed to make something edible. As much as I’d LOVE pizza, I’d rather it be because we chose from the get-go to have it… not “oh snap the weakest kitchen link screwed up dinner what do we do?”


*conversations are paraphrased!


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