I had planned on making a special Valentine's dinner of homemade spaghetti sauce, whole wheat penne pasta, and a tossed salad. What the reality of the situation is...The Man came home Friday night and announced, "Nothing will be eaten this weekend that hasn't been shot!" Hmmm, yummy. Not. However, if that's what makes him happy, that's what we'll do, as long as he's not asking me to shoot anything. That's where I draw the line. The things I do in the name of love.
Last night, he did all of the cooking, I just tossed a salad. He broiled deer chops, baked potatoes, and made broccoli. I wasn't looking forward to the chops because I'm not a fan of venison. It's just too gamy tasting to me. I was pleasantly surprised, though. It wasn't bad. Day one down, one to go.
Tonight is pheasant. I like pheasant, but not enough to put it on my menu. When he laid out the pheasant to thaw, I looked at him wide eyed and asked, "Seriously, Hon, how many people are you planning to feed with all of this meat?"
So, for St. Valentine's Day, I'm cooking pheasant. I'd like to say I'm making something exotic like "Pheasant Under Glass" or whatever that is, but the reality of the situation is that I'm probably be making beer butt pheasant. Classy, eh? Nothing but the best for my man. ;)