Friday, October 17, 2003

That was an abject dismal abysmal failure.  And after all that work!  Two days of work.    I stuffed and trussed those slippery little game hens this afternoon—that took a chunk of my day, and after roasting the birds to the proper temperature, I let them sit a few minutes.  All looked well enough, but after plating them and finally sitting down at the table, my husband looked sceptically at a little pool of reddish liquid seeping out the tale end of his bird.  Even though the meat was cooked through, and even though a de-boned game hen is a thing of wonder to slice, that little puddle ruined the meal for him, and for me.   No, maybe I could have forged ahead with gusto—if the stuffing hadn’t been so disgusting, just a mass of mushy cornbread and mushier wild rice.    And the pomegranate sauce, which was supposed to be a translucent pale pink, looked and tasted like Campbell’s Tomato Soup.  I’m not sure what went wrong there.   Well, we looked on the bright side:  at least I hadn’t invited any company—and there was that much more room for ice cream after supper.   Crossing Deboned Stuffed Cornish Game Hen with Pomegranate Sauce off the list.   Whew, thank goodness.  There’s an old saying about being careful with what you’re good at.  If I had been good at this meal, eventually I would have wanted to debone myself. comment []8:01:45 PM     I saw some pomegranates at the store the other day, an uncommon sight around these parts.  Because they were there, I grabbed four of them and decided to make the one really special, labor-intensive meal that I experimented with earlier this year:  Deboned and Stuffed Cornish Game Hen with Pomegranate Sauce.   Deboning the 4 birds probably took me about an hour and a half.  I watched TV while I did it, or listened, while I watched my fingers to make sure I didn’t hack them too terribly.  It gets easier, goes a little faster, and becomes a bit less gruesome, the more you do it.  I’m sure my sister the mortician could say the same thing about her line of work.   The stuffing, a cornbread wild-rice version, I whipped up yesterday and let sit in the fridge overnight.    Juicing the pomegranates was an adventure.  Easy enough in theory:  just roll the fruit on the counter, pressing as you do so, while the seeds burst inside.  Then cut a slit in the bottom and squeeze the juice out.  Except, each and every time, the pomegranate imploded on me.  I salvaged what I could of the juice and squeezed the rest of the seeds in giant fistfuls. Three to four pomegranates were to have provided me with 1 cup of juice, but the four I had only gave up ¾ cup.  I suppose it depends on the size of the fruit.    Anyway, my sauce is prepared, the stuffing is ready.  Now to stuff the birds, secure them, and truss them up for roasting.   comment []1:37:44 PM

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