Whenever I cook dinner it feels like such an event it warrants a whole post. Scott took over the cooking three years ago when he returned to freelancing, and I have mightily enjoyed that arrangement. 🙂 But we’ve been talking about changing up our work schedules this summer, and one of the changes is that I’m going to take charge of three dinners a week. “Take charge” like one of those shrieky TV chefs, probably, haranguing my beleaguered sous chef—cooking does not bring out my gentle side. Okay, I may be exaggerating a little. Rose helped me put together a perfectly delectable meal yesterday and I don’t think I shrieked once.
We made this: Holy Yum Chicken. It lived up to the name. Even my picky ones were bewitched by the sauce. We served it with roasted broccoli and boiled new potatoes. Three different foods on the plate: I felt positively gourmet.
Of course then tonight rolled around and it, too, was supposed to be my night, and I was out of ideas—you failed me, Pinterest—so we’re ordering a pizza.
But NEXT WEEK. Next week I shall be a veritable Rachael Ray. Or Ina Garten. Or Betty Crocker. Or someone. As long as my sous chefs have plenty of ideas.
Into the void, blather.
In a blink, August disappears.
Sunday, August 13