Last night Adam and I had some friends over for dinner and I made BBQ beef sandwiches which I have never made before. I did them in the crockpot, meticulously following a recipe I found in a book given to me by my dear friend Michelle.
The recipe was super easy and I was pretty proud of myself and how yummy the house smelled all day long. I even cut up onions and pickles as a topper instead of coleslaw because even though I prefer coleslaw I think that is an East Coast thing. Yeah, like kidney beans.
When our friends came over, I shredded the beef (which made me feel very grown up and wise about cooking, in the manner of Martha Stewart), poured some of the juice from the crockpot over it, mixed it all together and shoveled it out onto sandwich buns.
Our friends gathered their plates and sat at the table as I arranged my own and tidied up quickly in the kitchen, before noticing everyone seemed to be waiting for me. So I hurried to the table with my plate, encouraging everyone to try the food and letting them know it was the first time I'd ever cooked a huge chunk of beef in my crockpot. I could see everyone sort of inch away from their plates ever so slightly, so I dug in to prove that I felt confident about it, even though I didn't. It was pretty good, but not super flavorful. Even so, I still thought it was a bit better than "edible" which was the rave review I actually recieved.
Oh well. I'll file that recipe away under "don't do this one again". At least they were honest. :-)
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