Why is the day before a trip always so hectic??!? Work emails to finish, projects to sign off on, reports to request and send, calls to return, mayhem needed to be whipped into order. Add to the mix an early release day with the munchkin, dance class, bank deposits so said trip can be financed, iced coffee run and manicures, not to mention blog (c'mon, these are way essential). When the heck am I going to pack, do the laundry that needs to packed, put out the trash, change my sheets (I have this thing about returning home to clean sheets...) and pick up the house (ditto). Oh yeah, and don't forget to check in online and print the tickets, but wait! First, there's the realization your flights have been adjusted. You now have a 20 min layover. In Detroit? With a four-year old? I.don't.think.so.
So, between the dance pick up and after the manicure but before the bank and during the iced coffee payment, I had to call Delta to remedy this egregious error. Dialing my super secret elite number while I slum it through the drive-thru was probably a bad idea. So was the attitude the peon on the line gave me. Not once, but three times, she rudely bellowed, " You don't talk loud enough. I can't help you if I can't hear you." While this is true, her delivery was pretty jerky. Um, manager please. Did you hear that?
After some very nice man in customer service gets me rebooked with a more reasonable time between flights, I realize: oh yeah, I also need to feed my kid tonight. I thought about ordering food or stopping for something pre-made at the market, but then I recalled there are frozen chicken thighs and drumsticks, relics from delicious eating B.D. (Before Diet), at home. And then I recalled I can eat dark meat three times a week!!!!!!!!! Hurrah!!!!!! I will make my favorite dish of all my weeknight standby's, AND it's diet-friendly!!!!!!! Praise be to Perdue!!!!!!!!!!
I have mentioned chicken on here several times, but don't think I've actually posted a recipe. Curious as most of my meat forays include this feathered friend. It's quite possibly the easiest dinner EVER, and includes vegetables to boot, all cooked in one pan. Easy peasy, one mess to clean up, and tastes like you roasted it all day. I throw some chopped avocado and reheated peas on the plate for H with her "chicken bone", and we're cooking with gas (I wish- we have electric).
Say a little prayer for us that we get to our mini-vacation tomorrow safely (and on time). While I will be checking the BB periodically (occupational hazard, BB addiction is), I will not be logging in to a computer. I need some serious unplugged time. Seriously.
One pan Roast Chicken and Vegetables
You can really use any veggie that will hold up to roasting well: I stick to purple and yellow carrots, squashes of all kinds, cabbage, onions, leeks, beets, and sliced red potatoes- make sure all are uniformly cut. I usually cube the potatoes, onions, beets, and winter squashes, matchstick the carrots, half moon zucchinis and summer squash, and throw the leeks in whole. Tonight, however, I used baby carrots leftover from an entertaining veggie plate and baby Bok Choy that was left out of a stir fry: all tender carrots and leafy greens soaked in chicken-fat goodness.
4 pieces of bone-in chicken (drumsticks or thighs work best)
1 teaspoon Adobo season (or just plain S&P, if you prefer)
Assorted chopped vegetables (see note above), about 3 cups
Cooking spray
Salt and Pepper
Heat oven to 425 F. Heat a large saute pan that can go in the oven on the stove top- medium to high heat. Pat chicken dry. Season with Adobo. Apply cooking spray to entire pan. Add chicken, careful not to crowd. Allow the chicken to sear on all sides, starting with skin side down (thighs) for about 4-5 min each. When it's seared, it won't stick to the pan and will have a nice golden crust on the outside, but still look slightly pink where it hasn't touched the hot pan. Add the veggies to the pan and roll around in the chicken juices. Season veggies with S&P. Place chicken parts on top of veggies. Place pan in the oven for 25 min. The chicken should have clear juices run when pierced or use a meat thermometer: the internal temp should be 165-170 (be careful not to hit the bone as it may give you a misread). Let rest for 5 minutes. Serve over rice or mashed or polenta or nothing if you're pressed for time and scarf down, preferably not while standing over your laptop on the counter, tying up loose ends while directing your daughter to grab her coloring books and crayons for the flight between bites.
If you're fancy, you could deglaze the pan with some Vermouth or white wine, add a little stock and tablespoon of butter. Reduce by half. This would make for a pretty crazy-awesome gravy.
Showing posts with label chicken. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chicken. Show all posts
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
For my Gram
My grandmother is the type of lady who lunches. Don't get me wrong: she's not a society queen or a Boston Brahman born with a silver spoon in her mouth. But she definitely frequents cafes for her noon time meal. Gram loves food and company to eat with. She also lives in Orange County, California, and from what I've observed, this seems to be the norm out there for the retired set. My grandmother hosts luncheons for her lady friends as well. She also has my uncle to lunch frequently. For these lunches, she makes things I have only heard about in my Cold War-era history classes and lectures incorporating details about 1950's housewives or what I gleaned from Julia Child's vivid descriptions of food she was privy to before learning to cook in France: a pale yellow pineapple circle, on a piece of wilted iceberg, filled with chunky cottage cheese; shiny jello molds with canned fruit suspended like astronauts within a space dome; powdered raspberry iced tea with lots of ice and a wedge of lemon.
Personally, I love the kitsch of it all. I experienced this first hand about a decade ago, and it's very much become embedded in memories of my Gram. I was completely undecided about anything my life, starting in my senior year of high school. The only exception being I decided I wanted to have an exciting life. I had lived in NYC for a spell, attended Parson's School of Design on scholarship, and got my first taste of freedom. Picture it: 1998, East Village, NYC- new age hippie teen living in apartment five blocks from Washington Square Park, with three teen roommates. My mother just sent me a monthly check to buy art supplies and "rations." I had a fake id and got my groove on at Tunnel, Life and all those 90's clubs I had read about. I was studying "The Ahhhts" at Parson's and was good enough to get a scholarship (booyea). Oh yeah, my head was big. I knew I could never go back home after this and just go to a Massachusetts state school, do my laundry on the weekends at my mom's, perfect my Boston accent. I wanted to stay the heck out of dodge, and college seemed like the reasonable way to peace out.
I didn't think that anymore in Pennsylvania in September. I hated living there, I hated the school, hated it all. Looking back, I don't think I would have loved anywhere at that point in my life, but not going to college was not an option; people where I lived just didn't do that (or at least that's what I was told by my mother). I had viewed freshman year as a continued escape like my time at Parson's; however, going to school in PA was a million light years from living and taking art classes in NYC. Fast forward to Spring semester, finals' week: after my 3-D design final, my last, I skipped to the Registrar's office.
"I'd like to leave the university. Is there something I need to sign?"
" Oh, you'd like to take a leave of absence? We have a form for that. Let me get it for you..."
" No, sorry. You misunderstand me. I want to drop out. I never, ever, EVER want to come back here again. Do you have a form for that? Or can you just, like, delete me now from the system? I would like to keep my grades though- I did pretty awesome this year." <-- big head still intact. And now I was a Dean's List College Drop-out. Who didn't tell her mother she unenrolled in college until the mother asked where the tuition bill was. Or that she was moving to Montana for an internship. Or that said internship was in the middle of the Pintler National Forest, 26 miles (and 4 cattle guards- the 18-year old me didn't know what a cattle guard was) down a logging road on a homestead ranch. For a nonprofit, bipartisan voter education project (You can imagine this was all lost on my East Coast Mother- she thought I was going to work for a militia cum cult because "what else does MT have to offer?"<- direct quote). My mother is normally a very sweet, laid back woman, but after sharing this information, I thought it best to spend some time in Socal with Gram. You know, so my mother could get used to the idea of me living on the West Coast. And also so she had some time to bring down her blood pressure and re hinge my bedroom door after it fell off the frame from her slamming it upon hearing the news of my dropping out.
I had visited my Gram before, but this trip was really fun. And my Gram loves to have me around to shop with, to watch Law and Order with, to iron with, to feed, to dote on. She calls me "#1", and has, like, a billion grandchildren. So fun is my Gram's, that I decided that after my internship, I should come back and live with her and my grandfather, attend community college like all the OC kids, and work at a health food store. This was the way to have an exciting life. Even when I thought of, think of, California, I picture the Santa Monica mountains at night, and instead of the Hollywood sign, California is written in bright white stars. My Gram always tells me I am so visual and creative. She helps keep my big head inflated.
After I finished my (first) MT adventure, I meandered around the West in WY and UT for a spell. I landed back at Gram's for the start of the new semester in January. My Gram has lived on the West Coast since I was about 11, so I hadn't spent a lot of time with her, just hanging out. This was when I came to observe her lunching habit and hosting prowess. While I am not a fan of Jello or raspberry iced tea, I do love pineapples and cottage cheese. Gram also concocted this delicious crab salad that I would wolf down should I be lucky enough to not have classes those afternoons she hosted company. She also made a curried chicken salad once that I have not forgotten. I never thought I was one for curry powder until that day, but now, I adore it.
I have mentioned this diet I am on (10 weeks, 10 weeks...), and I need to get creative so as not to suffer through it's duration. My gram has inspired me to create a curried chicken salad that will work with my restrictions. I don't know how she made her's, but I am guessing Miracle Whip and Pepperidge Farm thin-slice bread was involved. I will put mine on a bed of red oak leaf lettuce and frisee. Add an iced tea too- hold the raspberry. And please, no Jello molds (but I will take the canned fruit and cottage cheese). My Gram would be proud that I am sticking to my diet. And she will be pleased as punch I blogged about her- she knows her way around the Internet better than many people I work with in the technology departments of school districts. She'll probably link to this from Facebook. Because that's how cool and great my Gram is.
Curried Chicken Salad
This is a recipe for a wonderful chicken salad (not my diet version). It's great on a bed of salad greens or pocketed in a whole wheat pita. Also, these are my measurements. I am not a huge mayo person, so if you love the stuff, you can leave out the Greek yogurt (but that does give it tang) and use all mayonnaise. These are simply guidelines. Tweak away. I can hear my Gram saying now, "Good job, Jen!"
2/3 cup rotisserie chicken, shredded
1 tablespoon diced celery
1/2 cup halved red or black grapes
2 tablespoons silvered toasted almonds
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
1 1/2 tablespoons Greek yogurt
1 teaspoon course grain mustard
2 teaspoons curry powder
salt and pepper to taste
Combine mayonnaise,yogurt, mustard and curry powder in a bowl. Add chicken and celery until well drenched in the dressing. Gently fold in grapes and almonds. S&P it up. Serves one. Multiplies like a dream.
If you don't have rotisserie chicken, any cut of chicken would be fine. I am sure green grapes are good too, just not as pretty. Dried cranberries are awesome as well! I guess raisins would be ok, if you like raisins (I don't, unless they are alcohol-soaked, but that's a different post). This salad really needs lettuce and tomato, so if it's not on a bed of greens with cherry tomatoes, add some to the sandwich. And be sure to serve on china with a linen napkin and placemat. Cuz that's what my Gram would do.
Personally, I love the kitsch of it all. I experienced this first hand about a decade ago, and it's very much become embedded in memories of my Gram. I was completely undecided about anything my life, starting in my senior year of high school. The only exception being I decided I wanted to have an exciting life. I had lived in NYC for a spell, attended Parson's School of Design on scholarship, and got my first taste of freedom. Picture it: 1998, East Village, NYC- new age hippie teen living in apartment five blocks from Washington Square Park, with three teen roommates. My mother just sent me a monthly check to buy art supplies and "rations." I had a fake id and got my groove on at Tunnel, Life and all those 90's clubs I had read about. I was studying "The Ahhhts" at Parson's and was good enough to get a scholarship (booyea). Oh yeah, my head was big. I knew I could never go back home after this and just go to a Massachusetts state school, do my laundry on the weekends at my mom's, perfect my Boston accent. I wanted to stay the heck out of dodge, and college seemed like the reasonable way to peace out.
I didn't think that anymore in Pennsylvania in September. I hated living there, I hated the school, hated it all. Looking back, I don't think I would have loved anywhere at that point in my life, but not going to college was not an option; people where I lived just didn't do that (or at least that's what I was told by my mother). I had viewed freshman year as a continued escape like my time at Parson's; however, going to school in PA was a million light years from living and taking art classes in NYC. Fast forward to Spring semester, finals' week: after my 3-D design final, my last, I skipped to the Registrar's office.
"I'd like to leave the university. Is there something I need to sign?"
" Oh, you'd like to take a leave of absence? We have a form for that. Let me get it for you..."
" No, sorry. You misunderstand me. I want to drop out. I never, ever, EVER want to come back here again. Do you have a form for that? Or can you just, like, delete me now from the system? I would like to keep my grades though- I did pretty awesome this year." <-- big head still intact. And now I was a Dean's List College Drop-out. Who didn't tell her mother she unenrolled in college until the mother asked where the tuition bill was. Or that she was moving to Montana for an internship. Or that said internship was in the middle of the Pintler National Forest, 26 miles (and 4 cattle guards- the 18-year old me didn't know what a cattle guard was) down a logging road on a homestead ranch. For a nonprofit, bipartisan voter education project (You can imagine this was all lost on my East Coast Mother- she thought I was going to work for a militia cum cult because "what else does MT have to offer?"<- direct quote). My mother is normally a very sweet, laid back woman, but after sharing this information, I thought it best to spend some time in Socal with Gram. You know, so my mother could get used to the idea of me living on the West Coast. And also so she had some time to bring down her blood pressure and re hinge my bedroom door after it fell off the frame from her slamming it upon hearing the news of my dropping out.
I had visited my Gram before, but this trip was really fun. And my Gram loves to have me around to shop with, to watch Law and Order with, to iron with, to feed, to dote on. She calls me "#1", and has, like, a billion grandchildren. So fun is my Gram's, that I decided that after my internship, I should come back and live with her and my grandfather, attend community college like all the OC kids, and work at a health food store. This was the way to have an exciting life. Even when I thought of, think of, California, I picture the Santa Monica mountains at night, and instead of the Hollywood sign, California is written in bright white stars. My Gram always tells me I am so visual and creative. She helps keep my big head inflated.
After I finished my (first) MT adventure, I meandered around the West in WY and UT for a spell. I landed back at Gram's for the start of the new semester in January. My Gram has lived on the West Coast since I was about 11, so I hadn't spent a lot of time with her, just hanging out. This was when I came to observe her lunching habit and hosting prowess. While I am not a fan of Jello or raspberry iced tea, I do love pineapples and cottage cheese. Gram also concocted this delicious crab salad that I would wolf down should I be lucky enough to not have classes those afternoons she hosted company. She also made a curried chicken salad once that I have not forgotten. I never thought I was one for curry powder until that day, but now, I adore it.
I have mentioned this diet I am on (10 weeks, 10 weeks...), and I need to get creative so as not to suffer through it's duration. My gram has inspired me to create a curried chicken salad that will work with my restrictions. I don't know how she made her's, but I am guessing Miracle Whip and Pepperidge Farm thin-slice bread was involved. I will put mine on a bed of red oak leaf lettuce and frisee. Add an iced tea too- hold the raspberry. And please, no Jello molds (but I will take the canned fruit and cottage cheese). My Gram would be proud that I am sticking to my diet. And she will be pleased as punch I blogged about her- she knows her way around the Internet better than many people I work with in the technology departments of school districts. She'll probably link to this from Facebook. Because that's how cool and great my Gram is.
Curried Chicken Salad
This is a recipe for a wonderful chicken salad (not my diet version). It's great on a bed of salad greens or pocketed in a whole wheat pita. Also, these are my measurements. I am not a huge mayo person, so if you love the stuff, you can leave out the Greek yogurt (but that does give it tang) and use all mayonnaise. These are simply guidelines. Tweak away. I can hear my Gram saying now, "Good job, Jen!"
2/3 cup rotisserie chicken, shredded
1 tablespoon diced celery
1/2 cup halved red or black grapes
2 tablespoons silvered toasted almonds
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
1 1/2 tablespoons Greek yogurt
1 teaspoon course grain mustard
2 teaspoons curry powder
salt and pepper to taste
Combine mayonnaise,yogurt, mustard and curry powder in a bowl. Add chicken and celery until well drenched in the dressing. Gently fold in grapes and almonds. S&P it up. Serves one. Multiplies like a dream.
If you don't have rotisserie chicken, any cut of chicken would be fine. I am sure green grapes are good too, just not as pretty. Dried cranberries are awesome as well! I guess raisins would be ok, if you like raisins (I don't, unless they are alcohol-soaked, but that's a different post). This salad really needs lettuce and tomato, so if it's not on a bed of greens with cherry tomatoes, add some to the sandwich. And be sure to serve on china with a linen napkin and placemat. Cuz that's what my Gram would do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)