Wow. That is a big word to use before 9 am, and for a minute there I thought I’d made it up – but a quick Googling revealed that a bunch of young Facebookers already use it. I am so not down with the kids.
Chicken, potatoes, asparagus – but the picture doesn’t tell the whole story.
The chicken was lightly floured, then crisped in olive oil with salt and pepper. We’d had some olive-feta salad from the fancy organic “olive bar” the day before, and when the chicken was nicely browned, I threw in the master stroke – leftover vinegar-feta-pepper mixture from the bottom of the container. Leftover liquid, people – never throw it out. As planned, the chicken sizzled with a giant Opa! sound, and then in a blinding oregano cloud I squeezed a lemon, tossed and fired a few seconds, and served.
Oh, my. I’m sure we can all agree that Tuesday night dinner is never a sure thing, but paired with bacony mashed potatoes and steamed local asparagus, it was. Crisp and peppered, tangy and biting, a river of lemon feta soaking under potatoes – I can use all the adjectives I want, but I’ll never see it again.
I’m bad that way. As an apprentice, they’d say “make the soup!” and I’d make the soup, chopping this carrot or that mushroom, and they’d say “make that soup again!” and aghast, I couldn’t.
This doesn’t happen very often in baking, but it happens constantly at the stove, where you trade precision for a moment’s pleasure at the table. You’d be hard-pressed to recreate a dish made with leftover oils and bits of cheese, but so what? One mid-week existentialicious is better than any Saturday menu…
…because you never saw it coming, and it tastes like something else – surprise!