This evening for dinner Steve and I cooked pork chops, mash, and bacon. The idea is that I'm the one who knows how to cook stuff, but he's the one who's able to safely get stuff out of the oven, or turn off the gas and sort things out if I start fitting or if I collapse, that kind of thing. So it's a team effort, but he tends to regard it as me cooking.
So anyway, this meal. There are a number of cooking things I regularly cheat with to save time, energy or washing up - instant gravy, pre-peeled/chopped veg, that sort of thing - and this meal was no exception. The mash was Smash, and the bacon was pre-diced. He mixed the Smash, I fried the bacon, we mixed the two together, huzzah.
The pork chops, however, I did from scratch the way my mum used to, with a certain amount of various seasonings, an eggy-breadcrumby coating, pan-fried and then baked for a while covered over with foil. Obviously mine are never as good as my mum's, but then nothing is as good as your own mother's home cooking. They're perfectly passable though and might well fool the casual observer.
We sat down to eat, and as he often does, Steve started enthusing about the meal. "Mmmm, this is fantastic. Thankyou darling, this is gorgeous. We must never feed my dad this, he wouldn't want to leave," and so on. Of course, I asked what it was in particular he liked, for future reference... of course, he was on about the bacon-y Smash.