I Will Regret This.

Alright.

I’ll just tell you since in the last post I promised to be ‘more real’.

Sitting in our lovely hotel room in Santa Fe on New Years Eve, waiting to leave for dinner, Jon and I each wrote down five resolutions and sent them to one another.  The sending was done in an effort to support (nag) and remind (harass) the other to stay true to said resolutions.  We spoke prior about making them realistic and beneficial to our lives.  They were.  They are.  They’re probably the most attainable and bettering resolutions I’ve ever made.  So far I’ve kept them.

I will tell you two of the five…for now.  The first was always going to be about this blog:

1.) Write 4+ blog entries a week.

So far I’ve done this, I’m sure that I won’t always.  I aimed higher in hopes that it would at least guarantee me two a week.  The second also happened to be about the blog, but more so keeping Jon happy in our marriage:

2.) Try one new recipe a month and blog about it.

THIS is much more difficult than it sounds.  I work in a restaurant and work mostly nights, and when I’m not working at night, I absolutely do NOT want to be serving somebody food.  However, Jon loves my cooking (so easy to please) and it’s fun to blog about and take pictures of food.  It in turn supports resolution number one.

What I’m getting at is that last night was the 31st of January and in true Ali fashion (procrastination) and effort to keep my 2nd resolution, I tried a new recipe.  It was pretty half assed but (here come the excuses) I got done working way later than anticipated, still had to go to the grocery store, and drive home through traffic.  Oh yeah – and then cook/eat/cleanup said meal.  I was trying to get it done quickly, trying to watch Mitt Romney speak, and do not have my dads natural talent for timing food therefore I didn’t snag many photo’s.

I found the recipe online and chose a pasta dish because starting tomorrow (February 1st) there will be no carbs for me until after Hawaii.  Wish me luck.  So tonight we indulged.  It’s called Pancetta and Leek Pasta and honestly, it was average for a final carb fest.  Alas, here is my lame first attempt at food blogging. I’m already embarrassed.

We had olives to start.  I bought them pre-mixed.

The recipe did not call for baby’s breath, they were just too lovely to pass up.

The recipe DID call for leeks.  They were far more beautiful than I ever realized.

My (our) new chef’s knife that came in the set I bought at Williams Sonoma would be mad at me if I didn’t mention him.  He’s handsome isn’t he?

I was pretty pissed at that red wine for ruining my shot of the cheap flowers.  We don’t allow wine in our house.

I realize this looks nothing like pancetta and leek pasta.  That’s because it’s the primary color themed salad I whipped up while the pasta was overcooking.  Al dente can suck it.

This was the second pancetta attempt (note: READ the recipe carefully) after I yanked the first try out of the oven and nearly set off the fire alarms before running the smoking tray out to the patio.  Sad, but true.

Recipe goes like this:

Don’t burn the pancetta, add leeks, nondescript amount of butter, Ramona Singer (you have to have Bravo T.V. to get this) amount of dry white wine, guilty amount of heavy cream, simmer simmer stir stir, add soggy overcooked pasta and vioula:

…cat puke on a pretty plate.

Yum.

I spoke of my old blog earlier this week and one of my favorite quotes from it was:

“an experience is what you get when you didn’t get what you want”

This meal was an experience.  Better luck next time.