Mr. Niceguy or How I Learned to Come Home Late

Of the seven days in a week, I generally cook dinner on three or four of them. One or two weeknights are a free-for-all, and weekends are up in the air. It’s only fair for me to cook (and I like to) when I work eight hours a day, and Dave works a bajillion.

I’m exaggerating a little bit, but he worked SIXTY-TWO hours last week. In comparison, I worked forty-three, which left me almost twenty more hours to cook.

Even still, I came home late on Monday night again to Dave in the kitchen cooking one of my favorites: Shrimp & Grits. I’ve never had shrimp and grits cooked by anyone else, but I’m certain that Dave’s dish is the best. He even took pictures for me again. Bonus.


The broth for the grits (err…polenta).


Mushrooms sauteed in butter.


And shrimp.


Sliced roma tomato and an egg on top before going into the oven.


Holy yum, Batman.


Dave took a picture of me eating it, and it was gone 2.5 seconds after the picture was taken.


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