Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Our tomatoes are kickin'...

Check out our unruly tomato garden!


Hmmm...what does this remind me of?

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes Pictures, Images and Photos

Okay not really. They're really good tomatoes and we have so many we've been able to share with friends. Lots of 'em....but not all of them as clearly some are a bit too "racy" to eat.

There's nothing nicer than going out to pluck a fresh tomato from the vine, then coming back in and putting it on a sandwich.

Check out Mr. P's open-face BLT:


Mmmmmm...and yes we're still using the box of 100 pre-cooked bacon strips my sister sent me as a gift. (thanks Michelle and Eric!)

Anyone have a good tomato-based recipe?

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Dining Out in Omaha...

If you don't know that Nebraska is highly regarded for its beef than perhaps you should consider NOT auditioning for Jeopardy.

FYI: Nebraska is known to have great beef. And so when my sister was visiting we went on the hunt for the best steak in town. And ladies and gentlemen, I'm happy to say we have found a contender.

Behold The Drover:


Why is it great? Well first of all it's dark and looks like it was decorated by a Clint Eastwood fan circa 1975.


Second, the restaurant features a one-page menu (complete with cowboy on the front):


Your options are steak, steak, grilled chicken, and steak. I recommend the steak. Mr. P and my sis opted for the Whiskey Filet with loaded baked potatoes. I like non-alcholic beef so I opted for the 8oz. filet with salad bar accompaniment. (and by salad I mean iceburg lettuce, ranch dressing and bacon bits...still quite refreshing, actually) The steaks were cooked perfectly, the waiters are friendly and helpful, and the bread, french fries and potato/leek soup were great.

Maybe I liked it so much because as a child my family used to frequent a place called The Steak Pit. I believe "The Pit" also featured wagon wheels and dingy yellow lighting and a salad bar well stocked with iceburg lettuce. So perhaps my love for The Drover was simply caused by fond memories triggered by wall-mounted steer horns:


The world may never know.