I think not. Which is why I think it's perfectly okay that I had this.
That's roast beast y'all. Cindy-Loo-Hoo-style. Medium rare tenderloin roast. Yum. I mean, we didn't even need steak knives. Forks weren't really a necessity either. This meat was spoon-tender.
1: Why a spoon, cousin? Why not a knife or an axe?
2: Because it's dull you twit. It'll hurt more.
And we're back.
The shrooms on top were of the shallot, red wine reduction with cream at the end to fill it out variety. And they were tender, chewy little buttery bits of goodness on that meat.
Taters? Yeah, that was Gruyere and creme fresh with an assist by the mandoline and a 350 degree oven for an hour.
Haricot Verte? Solo. As is. Delicious.
Orange stuff? Oh, that was the crack. I mean, not really. It was the butternut squash with shallots, rosemary, and olive oil.
There weren't any left at the end of the night.
And after all that (and by all that I mean if you think that was the only plate of food I had you're crazy), there was this.
Oh. Where did we get that? What DC-area bakery can produce such tasty merengue-y luscious-ness the weekend before the holiday?
That's right. It's homemade y'all.
I have seen so many holiday special chef's shows where it's the feature. And I had one at dad's holiday special this year. Real busche. Cocoa powdered over the shrooms. Snow-sugar dusting the cake. Bourbon-caramel sauce to pour all over my slice.
Really, all over it. You're not surprised; so close your mouth.