In other related news, we have a project under way. Turns out our 16th anniversary (as a couple) happens to fall right on Chinese New Year, so we're whipping up a small dumpling party to celebrate.

I probably shouldn't be so hard on myself. They came out OK. I am assured by the other people that ate them that they were fine, and tasted like falafel. And except for the first couple of burned ones, they all got ate.

But it wasn't what I wanted, dammit. And so, falafail. Or failafel. It didn't quite measure up to the level of a failafail, at least.

All great chefs reinterpret classic dishes from their childhood. And while I am no great chef, I did have a certain fondness, growing up, for what we knew as "ground sirloin".

As I've mentioned in the past, when I go out to eat, more often than not it's at a fast-casual place with counter service. Sure, I see the value in going to a nice restaurant, sitting down, and enjoying a nice, long meal with good service and pleasant conversation. But I don't always have the time or money for that, and neither do you. And so I find myself at a Chipotle, or a Panera, or a Noodles, or, from time to time, a Pei Wei.

The plan, as these things go, was to try and approximate the amazing lemongrass-infused, seared beef kabobs I had the last time I was at Rice Paper. I wasn't sure what cut of meat they used, but I suspected they might be short, mainly from the shape.

I haven't cooked all fucking week.

The theme of this weekend was "shit not turning out quite like it should".

First, I wanted to make enchilada sauce. I've got that New Mexico Red Chile powder, and enchilada sauce is a very traditional use of New Mexico red chiles. So I did some poking around, and settled on this Emeril Lagasse recipe for "easy enchilada sauce".

For the longest time, I thought I didn't like green beans. I mean, clearly I didn't like green beans - I wasn't under some freakish delusion. They were nasty. Mushy, vegetal, bitter, and all-arouind unpleasant.

Dinner salads are tricky. You're basically juggling three slightly contradictory concepts. You want the lightness and freshness of a salad. You want to be full and satisfied after dinner. And you don't in any way, shape. or form want to create some kind of horrible Applebee's salad monstrosity full of iceberg lettuce and deep-fried things. But I have a few things I like to do with a dinner salad that I think makes for some good eating. And to illustrate them, Tuesday night's dinner salad:

So I've been watching The Worst Cooks In America for two weeks now, and I can officially say that the reality show format is murdering a whole bunch of perfectly good ideas at the Food Network. Seriously. It's following them down a dark alley and bludgeoning them to death with a crowbar.