Sunday, July 14, 2013

You Totally Wish You'd Had Supper At Our House Last Night... matter what you ate or where you went in the whole wide world.  That's because Durwood made Chicken Bengali, an old WW Quick Start recipe that I swear is my favorite of all time and so simple it might be a crime.  Here's the recipe:

Preheat oven to 375F.  In a small saucepan heat 1 Tblsp.+ 1 tsp. margarine until bubbly; add 1+1/2 tsp. each all-purpose flour and Worcestershire sauce, 1 tsp. dry mustard, and 1/2 tsp. curry powder, cook, stirring constantly until mixture is thick and smooth.  Spray 9x9x2-in. baking dish with non-stick spray, arrange 1+1/2lb. skinned, bone-in chicken thighs in single layer in dish.  Using a pastry brush, brush chicken evenly with curry mixture; bake until chicken is browned and cooked through, 35-40 minutes.  Serves 4.  (WW Points Plus = 7 points/serving)

The recipe says to baste every 10 minutes but we never do, and it's so juicy and so flavorful it is to DIE for.  He also sliced carrots that he steamed with sauteed mushrooms and a couple sprigs of thyme from the garden, and made plain old white steamed rice.  As you can see by the accompanying picture my intent to photograph my plate before I devoured things got sidetracked, but you can see all the parts, it's just that they're not as pretty as they were 15 minutes earlier.

I was having a huge funk yesterday.  I sat at the kitchen table in my lawn mowing clothes with a big brutz on, being crabby to Durwood, and reading a paperback mystery, trying to rationalize a reason not to mow, and generally being in a horrible mood.  When I finished the book at about 2:30 PM I thought "oh, what the hell" and went out to mow.  (because everyone knows you should wait until the hottest, sunniest part of the day to mow)  Thank god I did because being out there in the sunshine and breeze, working up a sweat, and smelling the sweet blossoms totally changed my outlook.  While I mowed I ran a hose up to water Durwood's raspberries, then after mowing I put a sprinkler on the garden and one out front to water those flowers.  By the time I'd cooled down and showered away all the sweat (and allergens that made Durwood's eyes red and weepy) I felt like a new woman--and then to have that triumph of a supper.  Well, mowing saved the day.  (how often can you say that?) 

While I was watering the patio planters I also watered the few ferns in the bed below the kitchen window.  I noticed new fronds unfurling and tried to get a picture.  I especially like this one with the water droplets on the frond beside it, and the sound of the spray on the lily of the valley leaves sounded like rain on a good umbrella.  Ahhh.

July 14--Georges Demeny, Fencer.  Lane stood staring at the red stain spreading across his white fencing costume.  His arms hung limply at his sides, his epee's tip resting on the floor.  His thoughts were a jumble--why had William sharpened his tip? what was that buzzing in his ears?  His sword hit the floor with a clatter and he sank to his knees.  William was frozen in the lunge, his sword arm outstretched, the other one cocked for balance.  Behind his shield his face was white and his sweat had turned cold.  Someone was screaming.  Was it him?

Well, there you go.  Take that, medias in res.  I don't know what I'll do the rest of the day.  Maybe I'll cut out and sew up that skirt I talked about last week.  Maybe I'll play lady of the manor and loll about eating peeled grapes.  Maybe I'll give in to temptation and cast on that baby blankie that's nagging at me.  Maybe I'll shilly-shally around all day and do absolutely nothing--except figure out and organize my 3 lunches for work next week.  Yeah, that's a good first step.  Sayonara.

1 comment:

Aunt B said...

Can't wait to see what you actually did yesterday. I like the idea of mowing as therapy. It always worked for me back in the days when I mowed the lawn in Dallas.