Daily Dabble: Mary Jane’s Out of Town – Bud & Kushie’s Culinary Weekend

Mary Jane was gone for the weekend.

That sentence alone should have been followed by ominous music.
Not because I was going to throw a wild party. Not because I was going to get into trouble. But because, for two glorious days, the kitchen was mine — and mine alone.

No “Is that really necessary?” when I reach for the butter.
No “That pan doesn’t go in the dishwasher” lecture.
No “Bud… are you high right now?” side-eye.

Just me, Kushie, a grocery haul big enough to survive a zombie apocalypse, and the kind of culinary plans that would make Gordon Ramsay either applaud or faint.

The Pact

Friday night, as I unpacked my groceries, Kushie sat next to me like a furry co-conspirator. She had that look — ears up, head tilted, eyes locked on the bag that contained the steak.

I crouched down, stared her in the eye, and laid it out plain:
“Kushie, Mary Jane’s gone. It’s just us. We’re going to eat like kings this weekend. But if you try to steal my dinner, I will retaliate with the vacuum cleaner.”

She wagged her tail. I took that as agreement.

Our plan:

Saturday: NY strip with blue cheese fondue and garlic-whipped potatoes.

This wasn’t just dinner. This was an event.

Saturday Night – The Steak Event

I don’t just jump into steak night. There’s a ritual.
First, music. It has to start with something bluesy — B.B. King, maybe some Muddy Waters — before gradually moving into 90s alt-rock so I can sear to Stone Temple Pilots.

Second, atmosphere. I dim the lights until the kitchen feels like a moody jazz bar, but instead of a bartender, you’ve got me in pajama pants and an apron with a weed leaf on it.

Third, entertainment. And here’s where it gets dangerous: I turn on the TV in the background, but only to the cooking channel.
Tonight? Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares.

Cooking with Gordon (Sort Of)

There’s something about having Ramsay on in the background while cooking that makes you feel like you’ve got a judgmental British uncle in the room.

I’m basting the steak and suddenly I hear:
“That’s so undercooked it’s still mooing!”

I look down. My steak is fine, but now I’m paranoid. I flip it again just in case.

Five minutes later, Gordon’s berating some poor soul for over-salting a dish. I freeze mid-sprinkle like a criminal caught in the act. I know he’s not talking to me, but there’s this voice in my head:
“Bud, you donkey! That’s enough salt to preserve a mummy!”

By the time the steak hits the resting board, I’ve whispered “yes, chef” to the TV three times.

Kushie Makes Her Move

Here’s the thing about cooking with a dog in the room: they’re always watching.
You think they’re lying down peacefully, but really, they’re calculating angles, timing, and wind speed like tiny furry assassins.

I step away from the counter for eight seconds to check the roasted garlic in the oven.
Eight seconds. That’s all it took.

When I turn back, Kushie is up on her hind legs, nose an inch from the steak. She freezes when she sees me, eyes wide, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
I freeze too, tongs in hand, locked in a silent standoff.

The only thing that saved the steak?
She decided the potatoes on the stove smelled even better.

Bud’s Bachelor-Weekend Steak & Potatoes

This isn’t just food. This is a love letter to Saturday nights, red meat, and the glory of cooking without someone asking, “Should we just order takeout instead?”

What You’ll Need:

For the steak:

2 NY strip steaks, at least 1.5 inches thick
Kosher salt & cracked black pepper
2 tbsp olive oil
3 tbsp butter
3 garlic cloves, smashed
1 sprig fresh rosemary

For the blue cheese fondue:

4 oz crumbled blue cheese
1 cup heavy cream
1 tbsp butter
1 tsp Dijon mustard

For the garlic-whipped potatoes:

4 Yukon gold potatoes
4 cloves roasted garlic
4 tbsp butter
½ cup heavy cream
Salt & pepper

The Method:

Potatoes first – Peel and boil in salted water until fork-tender. Mash with roasted garlic, butter, cream, and season to taste. Cover and keep warm.
Steak prep – Pat steaks dry. Season like you mean it — salt and pepper should cover the surface, not sprinkle it like fairy dust.
Sear time – Cast iron skillet on high until it’s hotter than Gordon Ramsay’s temper. Add olive oil, then steaks. Sear 3–4 min per side for medium-rare. Toss in butter, garlic, rosemary, and baste until you feel like you’re filming a cooking show.
Fondue finale – Melt butter in a small saucepan. Whisk in cream. Stir in blue cheese and Dijon until smooth.
The plate – Potatoes down first, steak sliced and fanned out, fondue cascading over the top like molten heaven.

Cooking Notes from Bud’s Kitchen:

The garlic should be roasted until it’s soft enough to spread on bread like butter.
The steak should rest at least 10 minutes. Use that time to pour yourself a drink.
If Gordon Ramsay yells at you through the TV, just nod respectfully and carry on.

The Dinner Scene

I plate the food, set it down at the table, and Kushie immediately takes her spot at my feet.
There’s no music now — just the quiet clink of knife and fork, the sizzle still echoing in my head, and the faint sound of Ramsay in the background telling someone their scallops are “so raw they’re still swimming.”

I take my first bite. The steak is perfect. Potatoes are creamy enough to qualify as emotional support food. The fondue sauce is… well, if sauce could be illegal, this one would come with a warning label.

Kushie gets a tiny scrap of steak as tribute for her patience. She eats it, stares at me, and I swear she’s already plotting tomorrow’s pasta heist.

Stealth Stoner Tip – The Weekend Edition

Cooking when you’re buzzed is like driving a sports car — it can be exhilarating, but you better know what you’re doing.
Here’s the system:

Prep sober – Chop, measure, and set everything out first.
Puff during the simmer – Find that moment where all you have to do is wait, then enjoy your “break.”
Let strong scents work for you – Garlic, rosemary, and sizzling butter will hide everything. Even from a spouse with a sixth sense for weed.

The Aftermath

The kitchen looked like a war zone. There was butter on the counter, rosemary on the floor, and a suspicious smear of fondue sauce on my pajama pants.
Kushie was asleep on the couch, dreaming steak dreams.

I sat there, full and smug, thinking:
This is what weekends are for.

When Mary Jane got home, she’d see the clean kitchen, hear about the steak I made Saturday, and never suspect that Saturday night was basically a Gordon Ramsay fever dream — with a joint.

The High-Light

If you’ve never had the house to yourself for a whole weekend, cooked a steak exactly how you wanted, and eaten it with a dog who loves you unconditionally (even if you didn’t share enough), you haven’t lived.

Also, Gordon Ramsay should never be on in the background if you’re prone to second-guessing your seasoning. Just saying.