I just made a dinner so good; your spouse/lover/significant other had an orgasm that would make a lion blush.
Yes, Jackass got naughty in the kitchen and the end result was culinary delight not seen in these parts for some time.
It all started with some center-cut pork chops and while I know a lot of you don't dine on swine, I ask you only to come along for the ride and make your decision later. The chops were about a quarter to a half inch thick and lean as could be. I washed them and then applied a very tasty rub supplied to me from one of the geniuses at Terrapin Art & Design. The rub not only provided an exquisite flavor but a wonderful color and aroma as well. After rubbing my meat, I readied: the steamer, some fresh spinach, bow-tie pasta, fresh ground parmesan and romano cheese, butter, heavy cream and a handful of the devil's inspiration.
The cast iron skillet was awoken from a sleep too long and was happy to be placed on some fire that made it say, "Damn, it's gettin' hottt in herrre!!!" Water boiled for the farfalle and I tossed those in and then washed the spinach and packed the steamer, like a collegiate English Literature major packs a bowl. The cast iron pan was smoking from being on the heat with nothing to cook. I placated it with just enough extra, super, never going to get laid unless it's by a carnival hooker, virgin olive oil to cover the bottom of the pan and then sent the chops to their doom. While the incendiary meat fiasco began, I pulled out another pan to prepare what was one of the best on-the-fly alfredo sauces I have ever made.
Alfredo ingredients combined, I seasoned the liquid heart attack and let it cook down, slowly adding more and more cheese, cause we like more and more heart attack!!!
Chops had been screaming for two minutes and it was time to finish them off. I hit em' with a dash of secret seasoning and pulled them off the flame. The whole deal, cast iron pan and all went into a pre-heated oven of 350 degrees. With a wink and a smile, I told the chops to, "go fuck themselves" as I laughed and closed the oven door. Fast forward to ten minutes later.
Pasta ready, spinach steamed but not limp, like my dick after a day of moving furniture up three flights of stairs or into your Uncle Ed's basement. The alfredo made love to the pasta and the spinach as I pulled cast iron from the oven. My mesa colored treasures looked and smelled wonderful. I plated all of that shit up and hit the spinach & pasta with a tad more two cheese blend. For ambiance, the Garden State soundtrack played in the background and I pulled one of my finest bottles of Diet Orange Soda, well chilled, from the fridge. I poured a healthy glass and sat and enjoyed one of the best meals I've had in a long time.
The best part about it, I was in my boxers and a muscle shirt, and there was no need to tip some jerk 30% cause you feel bad they can't afford gas either.
Afterwards the sex was phenomenal, I would have given your wife/lover/significant other a ten but, she farted on the dismount and sprayed my 1200 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets with cocoa pebbles. Other than that, she made Larry Flynt blush.
I hope you all are well.