crock pot, you are not my friend

i wouldn't say i'm a fabulous cook (certainly no rachael ray), but i can find my way around the kitchen without much difficulty -- and with only a few phone calls to my mom. during the years of our marriage, we've only had to order pizza spontaneously once or twice. tonight was almost the third time.

earlier this past week, i decided we would have a "comfort meal" this afternoon: pot roast, potatoes, carrots. found a great recipe. bought a chuck roast. made sure i had all necessary ingredients. all without a single phone call to mom.

i forgot to put the roast in the crock pot last night, so when we got home from church, i prepped it for dinner tonight. since i didn't have 10 hours to let it cook, i turned the crockery on high and let it do its thing while i curled up on the bed and napped. oh, the joys of crock-pot cooking!

i should say that while i am adept in the kitchen, i don't know anything about cuts of meat. or, how to pick a good cut. i just buy what the recipe says, sometimes asking for help from the friendly butcher, and figure it will all work out. and, it usually does.

except today it didn't. after several hours, i noticed the roast wasn't really falling apart like it should. enter desperate call to mom, who was too busy to field my culinary emergency. the roast was definitely done cooking. i cooked it another two hours, you know, just to make sure. when i pulled it out of the crock pot, it came in one giant heap of beef -- all held together by the most fat i'd ever seen within a piece of meat. i tugged and pulled and was able to scrape together a pile of roast for the two of us.

i think michael would have rather ordered pizza.

when i finished eating a small helping of roast, my mouth felt like i'd just put on lip gloss. the vegetables were good, but i should have passed on the meat.

for dinner, michael had two pieces of toast. my bowl of cheerios were quite tasty!