Seriously, I think I have a problem. I could eat a ribeye steak for each and every meal. Our house smells like meat.
When we first got married, I was very proud of the fact that I had an eye for finding cheap steak. By cheap steak, I would find that $2 a pound steak that you would not feed anyone except for those you hated. I would cook that bad boy up and chew and chew and chew it down. For me, it was meat, so I dealt with it. Brodi was not impressed, nor was she impressed when I baked a steak. I think I turned her off of steak for about 5 years. $2 steak will not impress anyone.
Anyway, those days are gone. I go for the good stuff and I eat a lot of it. I know that moderation in all things is a good general rule, but I think we can make an exception for ribeyes. Carter has joined me on the steak bandwagon. A day does not go by when he doesn't ask me for some steak. When I told him that steak was my favorite, he quickly and loudly proclaimed: "Me too daddy, steak is my favorite too. It's so very, very, very, very, very, very, very, good."