Monday, April 28, 2003

Another weekend spent without the husband. Friday I do not clearly recall, and if I could, I do not believe I would want to.  I know it involved Emily A-W, the usual amount of vodka and cigarettes, and far less than the usual amount of food. Saturday, due to Friday, was a slow day.  I did manage, however, to put together some Volailles en Escabeche, “Cold Fowl in Lemon Jelly.”  The penultimate – and yes, if the Masked Grammarian is still out there, I do mean second to last – aspic.  Sweet jesus!  Now, this one I haven’t tasted yet.  I’ll bring it to lunch where How Convenient!  I don’t even have to heat it up!  But it actually might not be all that bad.  I started by slicing up a half cup each of onion and celery.  I was meant to do carrots too, but I had run out.  I cooked them slowly with six cloves of peeled garlic in olive oil for ten minutes.  Then I stirred in my last 1/3 cup of vermouth, a 1/3 cup of white wine vinegar, half a lemon cut into 1/8-inch slices, half a cup of thin-sliced green bell pepper, a quarter teaspoon of rosemary, a sprig of thyme (I continue to argue, Jeff, that while fresh herbs are well and good, there is nothing like having a good jar of dried thyme around.  For one thing, fresh herbs have a tendency to get all nasty in the fridge), half a bay leaf, two sprigs of parsley, five peppercorns, and two cups of Better Than Boullion© Chicken – I’m branching out, and the chicken looks even better than the beef.  All that mess I simmered for ten minutes.  I layered a cut up chicken in a casserole – gizzard and neck and heart on the bottom, then the dark meat, then the light meat.  Between the dark and light, I layered half the vegetables and lemon slices, which I got out of the broth with a slotted spoon.  I lay the rest of the vegetables on top of the white meat, then poured on the broth.  I have a very hard time believing that this layering nonsense makes any difference at all.  I could have saved a dish and just dumped the chicken in with the broth.  Whatever.  I added more water to cover, put the top on, and simmered it slowly for an hour and a half. While it was simmering, the TV guy came and took our TV away.  I wrung my hands thinking of Buffy – would we have it back by Tuesday?  Also, there’s the fact that we possess Netflix’s sole copy of Duck Soup; we’re keeping thousands of people from Marx Brothers appreciation.  So when the chicken was done, I took it out and put it into yet another dish.  And took out all the vegetables again with a slotted spoon.  I skimmed the fat off the broth using my fancy-dan fat separator, which is so nifty, and boiled it down to two cups.  It tasted pretty good, actually, a lemony flavor deepened by all the vegetables and long cooking.  Then I poured it over the chicken, and because I was late to go see a movie, which is the least I deserve when my husband leaves me all alone, I didn’t let it cool to room temperature, just stuck it in the fridge. The broth is supposed to get to the consistency of “jellied soup.”  Sounds delicious, no?  (No indeed… -- Eric.)  I will eat of it today at lunch, and report back. So Saturday night I saw Laurel Canyon.  Fran McDormand rocks my world.  And Christian Bale ain’t so bad neither – he’s let that finger-lickin’ American Psycho physique go a little, but has still got some of the greatest forearms in movies today. Sunday Eric came home.  He had been planning to make some French Fried Chicken with the chicken we had in the fridge, but I had neglected to look at his recipe until Sunday, and so was unable to get the white wine he was supposed to marinate the chicken in.  So plain broiled chicken and Gratin de Pommes de Terre Crecy, Scalloped Potatoes and Carrots with Cream.  This I make by slicing up two cups of carrots and simmering them with butter, salt, green onions, and ¾ cup of water for twenty minutes.  Then I layer them with sliced potatoes in a buttered dish, salt and pepper, spread grated Swiss cheese and dots of butter on top, and pour in a cup and a half of butter.  Bake for an hour or so. What a good fucking thing Gratin de Pommes de Terre Crecy is.  First of all, it’s very, very pretty, the carrots layered with the potatoes, it looks like some glossy cookbook photo.  Secondly, I think I’m beginning to come around on cooked carrots.  Maybe they can be a little too sweet by themselves, but paired up with something else, they sure can make a nice contrast.  And thirdly, you know, cream. Thanks be to my dear husband, who I’ve just found out doesn’t like being called “sainted.”  We’ll have to come up with a new adjective – “faithful?”  “Sweet?”  “Sexier than Christian Bale?” I wonder which one he’ll vote for.  Whichever.  I never realize exactly how much I’m missing him until he comes home, bearing gifts – bourbon and scarves with horses on them from Lexington, Kentucky.  I was going a little crazy, I think, without him. Spousal love.  God -- that's not the kind of stuff you want to read about in a publication like this!  Sorry...     6:42:52 AM    comment []