I intended to do a great many things this Saturday past, but as a result of Doug Roberts' housewarming and the ensuing four-person after party(not to mention many Miller Lites) I eschewed all social interaction and holed up in my room all day. After my respite, I found that my roommates (read: parents) had already had dinner.

I dragged myself up and drove to Whole Foods, mostly because the night before a bunch of party goers, as all party goers do, were talking about an alien store named Wegman's. I decided Whole Foods was the closest, most expensive alternative...I may have been wrong, but judging by the amount of money I spent, I doubt it.

I bought a ribeye and some spinach, realizing that I have terrible luck cooking beef. I decided on cooking it in a regular, non-non-stick pan and butter, basting it periodically while it cooked on the range. I'll reitterrate that I am shit at cooking beef. This time, though, some delicious miracle occured and I produced the best steak I've ever had. I deglazed the pan and wilted my spinach at the same time, the by-product of which was pretty amazing. I couldn't even eat the whole thing. Not because it was too much (although it probably was), but because I knew how incredible it would taste cold over a salad (which I have just eaten for dinner. I was right).

There's nothing quite like cooking. It's an art, but also a science. It's the ultimate expression of fondness and caring, I think. Cooking for someone, whether they need the meal or not, is telling them that you care enough for them to sustain their lives, albeit on a small scale. So, clearly, if nobody is cooking for you...somebody wants you to die.

All kidding aside...I've decided that in the near future (2 months or so?) I'm going to have a dinner party. 5 courses, limited attendance. Because we're adults now and that's what they do, right?