Food Love

I've been realizing more and more that the way I show the Airman how much I love him is by cooking for him. I get it from my mother's family. I swear the way you know someone is in love with their partner by the way they make them a plate at a big (or small...not that we have many of these) dinner. Lately, I've become obsessed with cooking for him. Not only cooking but going a little on the gourmet side. Last night I actually plated dinner. What the fuck? You would have thought I was on Top Chef and Padma and Tom were waiting to taste. After last night's dinner I'm pretty sure I would not have been told to "Pack my knives and go." The recipe came from the Pioneer Woman. I love, love, love her blog. Her tv show, meh.

Her recipes are divine and I have yet to make one that didn't turn out awesome.  So last night, I made this for Airman: Braised beef ribs in a creamy wine sauce. Fanfuckingtastic. There are pictures to prove it.

This is when they got a little sear on them.

This is after I added the fresh rosemary, wine, and beef broth. The entire apartment smelled like rosemary, wine, and beef. I'm sure it's what heaven smells like.

While I let the ribs braise in the pan for three hours, I chopped up some portabello and shitake mushrooms, tossed them with olive oil, salt, and roasted 'em. The Airman questioned the amount of mushrooms I had purchased (about 2 1/2 pounds) but at the end of the night there were barely any for my lunch.

I took the ribs out of the pan after 3 hours. The meat was falling off the bones.

Then I plated that dish like a motherfucker. I started with a buttery helping of mashed potatoes, topped with mushrooms and then the delicious ribs. I topped it all off with a generous helping of the creamy wine sauce.

Food love.