Maddie Makes Stuffed Peppers

I recently ordered a steak and some ground beef from a cool ranch in Montana. (Family of a friend connection!)

Confession: both had been sitting in my freezer for the past few months because I F*CKING HATE COOKING.

But the time had come. I was feeling brave, and one evening I decided it was time to use the ground beef to make some stuffed peppers I had made before. (Confession #2: I’m still scared to attempt the steak. Stay tuned on that, I guess? Maybe? DON’T PRESSURE ME.) (Sorry I yelled.)

• Hit the store for some ingredients. Sorry, “fellow” chefs— I don’t regularly keep green peppers lying around the house!!
• Upon arriving home, did my usual thang of arranging my ingredients for a family photo.

• Stalled and put Goose in some jammies that he definitely hated.

• Consoled myself with a beer from the fridge.

• Consoled myself some more and hugged the dog, much to his dismay.

• Started chopping peppers. Got a little ahead of myself and accidentally threw away the top of my first pepper. The top I supposed to keep. But whatever. We live, we learn.

• Learned my lesson and did NOT throw away the top to the second pepper! Good job, Maddie.

Goose also said, “Good job, Maddie.”

• Put down parchment paper in fancy oven…container…thing, and carefully positioned the chopped peppers in container before placing in preheated oven. (Don’t ask me what the temperature was — I don’t f*cking remember.)

• Acquired some sunglasses to cut up an onion.
• Felt pretty cool, pretty invincible… I guess that’s why the Terminator wears them?

• Quickly realized sunglasses did not help keep my eyes of watering OH so badly.

• Opened can of tomato paste.
• Correction: ATTEMPTED to open can of tomato paste. My can opener is apparently a piece of shit, and I would NOT cooperate, friends. WOULD. NOT.

My view of the can; the can’s view of my angry face.

• Resorted to a knife. Managed to open can without losing a finger. GOLD. STAR!!

• It was time to simmer some shit!! (<Don’t be fooled by the exclamation points. This is usually the most challenging part for me.)
• Poured some vegetable oil into a pan WITHOUT measuring because f*ck da police.

• Waited for it to get hot.

• Added the chopped onions.

• Admired my dog, who didn’t give a F*CK.

• Added salt, pepper, and some seasoning. I DON’T REMEMBER WHAT SEASONING. I’M SORRY. (not sorry)

Feeling pretty okay about how things are going

• Mixed it up like the witchy bitch I am…
• Added the ground beef.

Feeling overwhelmed by MEAT

• Broke up dat meat and attempted to, uh, brown it. Because that’s what you do with ground beef. I hear.

Look, things are cooking!!

• Forgot about my beer. Over compensated.

• Goose rose from his bed to smell the beef. I figured this was a good sign.

• Once everything seemed cooked, I scooped all the meat into the peppers. (At some point I took the peppers out of the oven. Again, don’t ask me when. You should NOT be here to learn!)

• Put peppers filled with meat back into the oven at a good temperature to, like, cook everything.
• Felt pretty okay with how things were going! Managed to clean up the kitchen before the timer went off. WIN. WIN. (Cleaning the kitchen and not having a dishwasher fosters this hatred I harbor for cooking.)

• After some time (don’t ask me how long), I removed the peppers from the oven. They smelled good, friends. And they looked DAMN good. DAMN. GOOD.

• Took a test bite. Was pleasantly surprised.

• Moved to the coffee table (my table of choice) to finish my beer and eat my dinner while watching the classic holiday movie aptly named The Holiday.
• Swooned over Jude Law before learning what an asshole he is. DAMN IT, JUDE LAW.

• Managed to spill ground beef on my shirt. Luckily Goose was around.