Sunday, February 02, 2003

I was going to be mature and charitable.  I was going to greet the new (Sunday) morning with a smile, and I was going to bring to my coworkers that (Sunday) morning a little something to help us through our trials.  I would have done it, too.  I would have wasted away my one day of freedom making Charlotte Malakoff aux Fraises (Almond Cream with Fresh Strawberries), made with homemade ladyfingers.  Only I remembered belatedly I had no cookie pans, having left mine behind by accident in my Bay Ridge apartment.  No cookie pans, no ladyfingers. At which point I said, fuck em. For dinner, there was Supremes de Volaille a Brun, with a brown deglazing sauce of wine.  Which means that we had the same chicken breasts we had last time, dredged in flour and sautéed in clarified butter.  But when the chicken breasts were done and set aside, I threw in some minced green onions (the crappy Queens grocery store we found ourselves in on my one day of freedom had lots of dotty old ladies and obnoxious people, but a serious lack of aisle space or fresh produce), and then some Madeira and beef broth.  That I boiled down until syrupy before pouring over the chicken.  I sprinkle parsley on top, even – that’s the step I skip all the time.  You should know that Julia spends her whole life sprinkling parsley on top of things, and I often ignore her.  In addition we had some boiled new potatoes, which I tossed with butter and sea salt – I know, I know, sea salt, puh-­leese, but I’d found some that had been hiding in the back of my cabinet for eons, thought I might as well use it – as well as Harticots Verts Gratines, a la Mornay, which is green beans gratineed with cheese sauce.  This is one of those dishes that’s far more Iowa, 1955 than Paris timeless, but ah well.  Just make a béchamel sauce – butter and flour roux, cup of boiling milk, boil to thicken, season with salt and pepper – and stir in some grated swiss cheese.  Steam the green beans.  Smear a third of the sauce into a dish, put the green beans on top, salt & pepper them, then pour on the rest of the sauce.  Sprinkle with more cheese and some dotted butter.  Stick in a 375° oven for half an hour.  Eric loved them, he said they were fantastic.  The dear boy is still seduced by anything involving much cheese and butter.  They were okay. Depression is getting in the way of my typing, now.  I must off to work. 8:07:35 AM    comment []

I was going to be mature and charitable.  I was going to greet the new (Sunday) morning with a smile, and I was going to bring to my coworkers that (Sunday) morning a little something to help us through our trials.  I would have done it, too.  I would have wasted away my one day of freedom making Charlotte Malakoff aux Fraises (Almond Cream with Fresh Strawberries), made with homemade ladyfingers.  Only I remembered belatedly I had no cookie pans, having left mine behind by accident in my Bay Ridge apartment.  No cookie pans, no ladyfingers. At which point I said, fuck em. For dinner, there was Supremes de Volaille a Brun, with a brown deglazing sauce of wine.  Which means that we had the same chicken breasts we had last time, dredged in flour and sautéed in clarified butter.  But when the chicken breasts were done and set aside, I threw in some minced green onions (the crappy Queens grocery store we found ourselves in on my one day of freedom had lots of dotty old ladies and obnoxious people, but a serious lack of aisle space or fresh produce), and then some Madeira and beef broth.  That I boiled down until syrupy before pouring over the chicken.  I sprinkle parsley on top, even – that’s the step I skip all the time.  You should know that Julia spends her whole life sprinkling parsley on top of things, and I often ignore her.  In addition we had some boiled new potatoes, which I tossed with butter and sea salt – I know, I know, sea salt, puh-­leese, but I’d found some that had been hiding in the back of my cabinet for eons, thought I might as well use it – as well as Harticots Verts Gratines, a la Mornay, which is green beans gratineed with cheese sauce.  This is one of those dishes that’s far more Iowa, 1955 than Paris timeless, but ah well.  Just make a béchamel sauce – butter and flour roux, cup of boiling milk, boil to thicken, season with salt and pepper – and stir in some grated swiss cheese.  Steam the green beans.  Smear a third of the sauce into a dish, put the green beans on top, salt & pepper them, then pour on the rest of the sauce.  Sprinkle with more cheese and some dotted butter.  Stick in a 375° oven for half an hour.  Eric loved them, he said they were fantastic.  The dear boy is still seduced by anything involving much cheese and butter.  They were okay. Depression is getting in the way of my typing, now.  I must off to work.   8:06:53 AM    comment []