A Change of Plans

So here I am.  Its Friday night.  We were planning to go out tonight to pick up a hot jacket for my charming husband, my thought was if we're going downtown, why not get some sushi? Vancouver has fabulous sushi, and we don't enjoy it often enough.  But, me being me, the plans have changed.  I made a deal with my charming husband.  He is in charge of renting 3 movies, and I am in charge of dinner.

Dinner.

I am attempting sirloin in "shoot me I didn't have any tarragon" bearnaise sauce with brown mushrooms, green beans, and boiled new potatoes.  If it works out, he will be a happy camper.  I've already opened the wine.  I'm not sure if that's a sign or not.  More on the outcome after a second (read: fourth) glass.

***

Ok, too many glasses later and the supposed bearnaise sauce has adapted into what can only be called a bastardized bechamel with the addition of white wine, and cream cheese.  Don't even start with me on the calories - it was this or McDonald's, at least this will look fabulous (I hope). On that note, I've realized that the key to successful cooking is butter.  Everything turns out beautifully with real butter, except my ass.  But who's talking about that? Let us discuss this instead.  My charming husband is still at the movie store and all the food is ready.  I called him and he is almost finished up, so my task is to keep the steaks from overcooking, the mushrooms from going cold, the sauce from separating, and myself from eating all the bread. So far only one of the above is successfully happening, and I can tell you it ain't the bread.  My biggest problem whilst cooking is timing, I blame it on the size of my kitchen, but really I think its due to lack of organization, or the order of the battle, as it were. 

No picture tonight as the camera is out of batteries and we're starving.  

**EDIT** Whoo Blackberry picture saves the day, though it doesn't do the buttery goodness justice.