The beef stroganoff I made for dinner this evening was just about perfect, and I managed to get it cooked in time for Chris to eat before running off to the community garden meeting. And then I added Worcestershire sauce, because that's what Chris likes, and he puts it in his stroganoff. So I dump some in. . . and my milk sauce curdles. Dang it!
It turns out Chris adds the Worcestershire sauce while he's browning the meat. And then I'm not even sure if he uses milk or just sour cream. And he can't remember, either.
Grumble grumble stupid curdled sauce.
At least Gabe liked the buttery noodles, and the orange he pilfered while my back was turned.
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