I am a person of big plans. I'll admit it.
I like to attempt things that I've never done before, mostly just to see if I can do it.
This is typically my approach to cooking.
So when I heard about the idea of pulled pork barbeque in a Crock Pot, I was hooked. I was dying to try it, and if it met the Steven-Seal-Of-Approval, I was planning to add it to our regular magical-Crock-Pot meal rotation.
I bought a pork tenderloin and all the fixins, and yesterday before work, I mixed up a delicious-smelling sauce -- brown sugar, ketchup, apple cider vinegar, and all manner of spices. It was going to be amazing. I had buns, I had mac-and-cheese. I was all set.
I nearly danced out the front door that morning -- I was so excited to try it. I thought about it all day while I drooled on my paperwork. I rushed home to find that Steven had a rough day, and I thought to myself -- "Oh it will be so very nice to sit down to a prepared meal together!"
But then I realized that the Crock Pot was not wafting delicious smells like it should have been. I threw the lid off and stabbed the should-have-been-roasted-and-falling-apart tenderloin. Raw.
Note to self. Crock Pot is not nearly as magical when you leave it unplugged.
So, I got angry. And I decided to try again the next day. I sloshed the raw tenderloin into a tupperware bowl, threw it in the refrigerator, and determined that I would cook that stupid tenderloin if it killed me. I dropped it in the crock pot this morning and you can surely bet that I plugged that sucker in good this time.
About halfway through the day, I realized that there really wasn't any safe way to get away with leaving a raw pork tenderloin on my counter overnight and then attempting to cook and eat the same tenderloin. Little voices (probably from the USDA Food Safety department) whispered things like "eeeeeeeeeee-coli!" in my ear.
By the time I got home, I had resigned myself to the sad truth - I knew we had to toss it. But I figured at least it would be a good test run, to show Steven just how very delicious this barbeque recipe would be (with properly-handled-and-refrigerated proteins).
Not so much.
That, my friends, is a brick of charcoal. I refuse to admit that I am secretly glad to have had this test run, as it shows me that I will need a great deal more sauce to make a roasted porkloin and not a pile of Kingsford briquetes.
And so, my delectable barbeque failed, both for food safety reasons and for nuclear combustion reasons.
Thus, we resorted to the fail-safe option:
In other news, Steven's world has been turned upside-down today. First of all, his beloved Twins have traded their beloved Santana. I have been hearing about this trade for weeks and weeks, and the grandiose list of marquee players we could receive in return for good old Johan.
And today, the trade was consummated. And we got ... uh ... two minor leaguers, an 18-year-old kid, and some guy named Gomez.
Needless to say, dear hubby is not a happy camper.
Also getting under his skin today, the evangelicals (Dobson & crew) have decided to endorse Mitt Romney instead of the obvious (read: better) choice of Mike Huckabee. After watching the coverage of the Santana trade on ESPN and then turning the channel to see the Romney-Dobson political marriage, Steven threw up his hands in disgust.
"What is going ON with the WORLD?"
Clearly there is only one solution to our tenderloin-and-trade woes.