Friday night, I had the girls over. We had champagne cocktails and wine and an entire meal that would've been handily endorsed by the Dairy Council of America. Ashley brought a bleu cheese and bacon dip that I would've eaten with a spoon if I'd been alone. Holly brought salad with crack pecans and blueberries and bleu cheese. I made macaroni and cheese and slow roasted tomatoes. Andrea brought roasted broccoli. Then we had Tiramisu Cake.
The evening was not unfabulous.
Honestly, everything was pretty awesome, but I'm especially here to tell you about the macaroni and cheese. It was perfection. Really. I'd make it again today if I wouldn't weigh a thousand pounds if I kept eating it. I used Deb's version of Martha's Macaroni and Cheese, and I used extra sharp white cheddar and Romano cheeses and the cheapest white sandwich bread I could find for the topping. Just thinking about it right now is making my mouth water. I'm telling you: you will never want to eat another version of mac and cheese again...and this is coming from a woman who swears by Creamy Rigatoni with Gruyere and Brie.
Also, the Tiramisu cake. It was good, don't get me wrong, but the sponge cakes dried up so badly overnight that the leftovers were inedible, and that's just sad. It needed a little tweaking or a more significant dousing of coffee syrup. It didn't matter much, though, because the filling and the chunks of dark chocolate and the frosting were so good that I could've died happy whilst eating it.
Now, I made herbed focaccia yesterday afternoon and homemade tomato sauce, and there is a hunk of fresh mozzarella in the fridge, so I'm going to spend the afternoon daydreaming about paninis for supper. And tomorrow night, we're going to give Molly's bouchons au thon a whirl. I love my life. Everyday and twice on Sundays.