Sundays are more delicious than Mondays

On this week's episode of Sunday Dinners Gone Wild, I prepared the traditional Labor Day weekend fare: Beef Wellington Aux Duxelles with Bordelaise sauce. Which translated means Beef Wellington with Mushrooms instead of duck pate so you don't gross out your guests, potatoes with creme fraiche, green beans with caramelized shallots (or shallots sauteed really, really long instead "caramelized"), homemade pickled vegetables, salad, bread, birthday cake and panna cotta with sweetened strawberries.

A serious improvement over hamburgers.

I'd be lying if I said I couldn't get used to this type of dining: cooking for two days so as to linger over multiple courses, friends and bottles of wine for three hours. It beats wolfing down a meatloaf in front of the tv. But in addition to raising the bar a bit high so that on a Tuesday night after baseball and homework you can't throw that meatloaf at your gourmands-in-training, my menus do have one serious drawback.

Dishes.

I use every single one when I cook. Ever. Single. One. Even when I run the dishwasher six times before the actual meal to cut down on this droll post-meal chore, I still end up with sinks, counters, floors, tables and couches filled with souffle cups and pickle forks. I cannot seem to streamline the number of last minute serving dishes before serving.

And so Sunday Dinners have now lead to Monday Dishes. Which is not nearly as much fun, but since eating Beef Wellington on paper plates would be a crime against humanity, I guess you know where to find me on Mondays.

(And since I made twelve servings of panna cotta, Tuesdays as well.)


Speaking of food, here's a link to a food-related post in Whoa Momma! today.)