A year ago to this day, our town went into lockdown. Restaurants closed. Pubs that served food closed. Heck, everything closed.
I haven’t been to a restaurant since. It’s super sad. One time we ordered a pizza for a weekend lunch and my husband picked it up. Another time we ordered a batch of burgers so our staff could have lunch on the day we moved into our new offices. We did curbside pick-up for that one. That’s it.
I went into cooking mode. I’m a foodie and it’s a good thing, I can cook.
I like to cook but it can get old when you’re feeling forced, or pressured into cooking.
Every holiday since the lockdown has been celebrated with dinner for two. I even cooked my own birthday dinner. I got real smart on that one. I wanted to make it so simple that I didn’t feel like I was cooking. The menu? Prime rib and baked potatoes. All I had to do was pick up the prime rib at the butcher. Season it and toss it in the oven. Toss in the baked potatoes too. I put my husband in charge of all the bits you can use to top your baked potato. He set out sour cream, butter, chopped green onions, and grated cheddar. We customized our potatoes to our liking. I almost felt like I was at a steakhouse. The red wine didn’t hurt either.
Because I'm cooking a lot, I designed dozens of Plan Z recipes in the last year, so that's a plus. Then, something happened a few days ago that really rocked me.
My husband and I were eating and watching a movie in our den. He reached out his hand and took the remote. He paused the movie.
Then he said something I’ll never forget...