Tuesday, February 11, 2003

I don’t know what it is – the dread of my job, or the way I stay up half awake half the night desperately calculating the price of lamb, a hangover from an evening of high irritability, or maybe just February.  But I am just dragging my ass out of bed these days.  Which means that here I am with less than an hour until I have to be at work.  Which is a shame, because dinner last night was quite good, and I had a couple of memorable meltdowns.  I’ll do the best I can. I don’t know what got me so irritated last night.  Well, it probably had to do with the insane and pointless data entry I was doing all day at work, paired with an annoying bit of shopping and a snowy, wet and cold commute home, lugging heavy bags.  You know, I’m no social butterfly, but I know a few people, and when I think about it, I realize I hardly ever see them staggering down the street carrying loads of heavy shit.  Why is it that seems to be my entire life?  I get home, and there are dirty dishes everywhere, which is totally fine, because with the amount of dishes my dear husband has to do, he has the right – within reason – to choose when he’s going to do them.  And when he got home, he immediately started on them.  But still, made dinner prep rough going.  I started by grating the parmesan for the coating for the Supremes de Volaille a la Milanaise, Chicken Breasts Rolled in Parmesan and Fresh Bread Crumbs.  Now grating parmesan is something I very rarely do.  In Bay Ridge we had this great Italian grocery that sold good parmesan already grated.  My Turkish grocery also sells good parmesan – very good parmesan, too good, really – but nothing grated.  I HATE grating parmesan.  Those little bitty holes on my crappy little grater – ugh.  So THAT was irritating.  I moaned and groaned and snapped like an dog in pain, but I did it.  Speaking of dogs, we couldn’t get the Westminster on the telly, which makes me sad and irritated, because it’s my only outlet now that my HUSBAND won’t let me have a DOG…  But this is beside the point. Eric, who I get the impression was for some reason afraid for his life and our marriage, had finished washing dishes and was tearing the leaves off the spinach for the Epinards au Jambon (Spinach with Ham) by the time I was done with that.  Of course, he was doing it while watching stupid pundit shows, which, when I’m Irritated, irks me to no end, but whatever.  I diced up some ham (“French Ham” -- $8.99/ lb.) and sautéed it in butter.  It popped like popcorn, little tiny squares of scalding ham boinging around the kitchen.  Eric was talking on the phone with his brother at this point, and he must have thought his sister-in-law was a raving lunatic, the way I was shrieking.  Then again, he probably figured that one out a long time ago.  I clarified some butter to fry up the chicken breasts in.  I set on some water to boil for the spinach, preheated the oven to 400 so I could roast some little new potatoes that I’d tossed with olive oil, rosemary, salt and pepper, and started coating the chicken breasts.  JC wanted me to salt and pepper them, then roll them in flour, then egg beaten with a bit of salt and olive oil, then parmesan mixed with fine bread crumbs.  Which I hate all this breading crap, I ALWAYS make a mess, but I did it, and managed, actually, not to make too terrible a mess, anyway.  JC suggests pressing the crumbs onto the chicken breasts with the flat of a knife, which seems a terrible waste of a perfectly clean knife to me, but I did it, and I don’t know if it was that or just blind luck, but the crumbs stuck great and as I said, I didn’t get crumb-egg schmutz everywhere. I set the chicken breasts aside.  Stuck the potatoes in the oven.  Stuck the spinach in the boiling water.  After five minutes I drained the spinach, refreshed it with cold water, then drained it in a colander and squeezed out what water I could.  I sautéed it in a skillet with a bit of butter to evaporate the remaining water – I should have used my braising pan for this, I keep forgetting I have it – then tossed in some more butter and let it simmer slowly, covered for ten minutes or so. I heated up the clarified butter for the chicken until it turned slightly golden brown.  Put the chicken breasts in, two at a time. They browned admirably.  They didn’t even lose their coating in the butter, which so often happens to me with twice-breaded things.   In five or six minutes, the first two were golden and lovely.  I took them out, put them on a plate and set them in the oven, which I’d turned off because the potatoes, which were cute and little-bitty, were done.  I put the second two in to brown, and threw the sautéed, diced ham in with the spinach.  The second two chicken breasts wound up not as evenly golden as the first two, but crusted with darker brown spots, which I like even better.  So good.  I took those out as well, poured the last of the clarified butter into the skillet, and let it get golden brown.  Then I took it off heat and tossed in some minced parsley, which again fried scarily, until it was slightly crisp, and some lemon juice.  This I spooned onto the chicken breasts.  A chicken breast on every plate, a scoop of green spinach flecked with ham, and some puckery brown potatoes.  It was, I have to say, a beautiful meal.  “Nicely plated,” as my husband said in a plummy accent that more than likely arose out of his anticipation about “Joe Millionaire.” Which was annoying and a rip-off, as it happens.  They say the final episode is going to be TWO HOURS LONG.  Jesus Christ.  They never stop devising new tortures over there at Fox, do they? The dinner, however, was quite good.  You know, when I was a kid we used to eat a similar chicken dish, only my mother used whole bone-in chicken pieces, and I think she baked them rather than frying them in butter.  Obviously, frying in butter is the better way to go.  Aside from the obvious frying-in-butter aspect, the coating stayed on better – a perfect little crisp shell – than what I remember from my childhood.  The spinach too was good – spinach often is, especially with French Ham in it.  And potatoes, too.  That was nice, making those – nice to just put something together that you’re absolutely confident about.  And that was dinner.  The last of the chicken by the way.  From here on out it’s all exotica.  Duck up next in the poultry section.  And as for the sweetbreads countdown, I just counted and whew, I think I’m a little behind here.  We got some time – maybe three months or so.  I gotta pick up the pace. After dinner I made Eric’s evening by taking a shower and running out of hot water before the end, meaning he couldn’t do the dishes. Is it not pathetic to be paying $1200 a month for a freezing-cold apartment in which one cannot take a ten-minute shower, let alone that plus dishwashing?  One of Julie’s patented Hissy Fits came right about here. Well, off to work now.  A couple of quick thank-yous first.  First of all, strangers keep giving me money, and sometimes even friends and family – I can’t figure out which is more bizarre.  But I thank you.  Your donations contributed to lamb last weekend, and may just keep me afloat in coming weeks.  Lamb and duck and veal, oh my!  And James, thank you for your gift.  He sent me measuring spoons, which at first I was like, “Oh.  Great.  Measuring spoons.”  But when I open them up, lo and behold, they have an imminently useful half tablespoon measure!  Huzzah!  Thank you, dearie…. 8:02:58 AM    comment []