If you've ever been on Pinterest--or even Facebook--you know that some people can like, do stuff around the house. Like cooking, or decorating. And the photographs these people take make their homes look like magazine shoots.
And here I am, all, "Look! I made mac and cheese from a box and finally washed two weeks' worth of dirty dishes!"
Unless people are coming over, in which case I clean like a mad person to convince them I'm not the derelict slob I really am.
But this week, I totally could have photographed the dinner that I made. From real ingredients! Except that instead of photographing it, I ate it. Because that's how I usually treat my dinner.
I made Cornish pasties. And it was super easy. And not what I'd call a real recipe, since I didn't really follow a recipe. Here's how I did it:
I called the Dude on my way home from work, and made him take 2 chicken breasts out of the freezer to thaw.
I stopped at the store at bought two refrigerated pie crusts, a bag of mixed frozen veggies, and a can of condensed cream of potato soup.
Upon getting home, I cut the chicken into smallish pieces. (This is the hard part.)
Then I dumped the chicken and the veggies and some chicken bouillon and whatever other seasoning I felt like and a couple handfuls of frozen diced onion in a pot of water. And I boiled it.
I unrolled the pie crusts and cut each in half. (This made eight pasties.)
And once the stuff was done boiling (I stopped just before the chicken was fully cooked), I strained it, dumped in the can of soup and a bit of the water I'd reserved, mixed that shit together, added some more seasoning, and scooped a little onto each piece of dough. Folded the dough over, pinched the edges, and baked at 425 for half an hour.
Then I watched some TV.
Ten minutes in, I ran back to the oven and poked a hole in each so as to avoid a pasty-splosion.
And then I finished my show, and then I stuffed my face and burned my tongue.
It was fucking awesome.