Usually We're Good Cooks

But not yesterday.

I've been craving fajitas and yesterday I spied a fajita kit at my little grocery store (the German one where all the old people shop and where it's normally impossible to buy tortillas in any form).  I'm not stupid.  I know that food kits are ill-advised, but it was a good price and it was there and there was stir-fry beef on sale.  It seemed perfect.

Here's what comes in a British fajita kit: tortillas, fajita seasoning, a strange packet of salsa that tastes like ketchup. 

To cut a long story short, the fajitas were a flop.  The meat was so tough that Steve offered me a £ if I could bite through one of the worst pieces.

Then we followed up the fajitas with steamed puddings.  They came out dense and chewy and tasting vaguely of mildew (note to self: do not buy the bargain flour). 

I would have felt pretty rubbish all around except that right after dinner, we drove Lydia over to church and she informed me that we're best friends, so that's one success, eh?