“…it wasn’t until we
had kids that I discovered how truly selfish I was, thinking that the time when
they all were finally quiet and in bed belonged to me. During the day, I had
played Legos when I wanted to read, changed diapers when I had just sat down to
eat, given hard lessons about sharing when I really just wanted to sink into
the couch and let my mind think of nothing. So when late evening’s quiet
finally came, I wanted nothing more than to answer only to myself. Soon,
however, I realized my desires overshadowed my marriage and that I had
selfishly ignored the person I cared for the most.”
-Ashley Rodriguez, Not
Without Salt, pp. 168-169
I wrestle with this daily. Introverted as I am, the peace
and solitude of the end of a long day beckons to me. When Roy is home for a few
nights in a row we fall into a lovely rhythm of sitting down after the kids are
asleep and connecting in conversation, often over a dessert or drink. But if he’s
had several consecutive evening concerts, that first night when he’s home again can often feel
stilted. I quickly claimed that time as “my own” while he’s gone and it takes a
little practice to share again. It comes back soon enough, and this Date Night In
happened to fall on the third consecutive evening of being together, so we were
in our groove.
Roy tackled the cocktail and preheated the oven while I
snuggled and kissed and tucked in. Then I came down to face my greatest kitchen fear:
deep fat frying.
As I double-dredged the chicken thighs I couldn’t help but
remember my days of working in the deli at the local grocery store. My parents
have always maintained that it’s important for everyone to work a menial,
minimal-wage job for a while. This was it, in spades. Pounds and pounds of
frying chicken, slicing deli meats and cheeses, prepping subs—all the while
terrified for my musical fingers around all the sharp blades. There
wasn’t a lot of joy in the deli I’m afraid, but it did give me a better
appreciation for those who do it cheerfully. (I’m a lot better at guesstimating
small weights too.)
When I fried chicken in the deli, I just dumped it in some fancy frying gizmo and
set a timer. Not so here. I carefully kept an eye on the temperature of the oil
(there was probably a quart of it, glistening in all of its fat and
cholesterol, and simmering in a way that made me fear for my skin). Once it
hit 360° I carefully dropped in the thighs. They started bubbling and in general doing what they did in
the deli, a good sign. I needn’t have worried about the temperature of the oil getting
too high…the cold chicken immediately lowered the temperature by thirty
degrees. Three minutes per side and I placed them on a cooling rack. That then
was placed into the oven (over a silent prayer that the rack was oven-safe) for
9 minutes.
Roy finished the cocktails and handed me mine—a basil mint
jubilee. There were 8 mint and 4 basil leaves all muddled on the bottom of our
glasses, but we both agreed that all we could taste was bourbon. I muddled some
more, but it didn’t change much. Maybe crafting a syrup from the leaves and
using that instead next time? In either case, either by design or technique,
this didn’t wow us.
 |
| The bourbon highlight of the night was not this drink. |
We turned our attention to the pickled vegetable salad. I
toasted almonds and drained pickled onions, beets, corn, and carrots, while Roy
chopped parsley, lettuce, and crumbled goat cheese. It looked super-colorful
once assembled. We enjoyed it. Again—probably not my favorite thing? But the
flavor combination was new and refreshing. I don’t feel the need to pickle
anything anytime soon though.
 |
| We were really in it for the goat cheese. |
The chicken came out and we assembled our sandwiches. The
biscuit WAS probably my favorite thing. It had grainy mustard spread on the bottom
and honey drizzled on the top, and it was drop-dead tasty. The chicken was
good! It tasted authentic, with a nice crispy exterior and perfect doneness on
the inside. I still struggled to eat something that I had fried myself, but I
think if anybody else had made it I would have loved it. Personal struggle
there. The sandwich was ENORMOUS. No way I was going to manhandle it without
utensils. (This is supposed to be a date, no?) So I forked my way through it,
which gave me the excuse opportunity to eat the chicken first and then savor
the biscuit. Yummmmmm.
 |
| Biscuity goodness, grainy mustard, dill pickle slices, a honking piece of fried chicken, honey, and more biscuity goodness. Roy's comment, "If we had eaten stuff like this when we lived in the south maybe we wouldn't have been in such a hurry to leave." |
We were full and there was still dessert. (Chocolate pecan
ice cream pie with bourbon butterscotch and pretzel crust…you can do the angel “ahhh”
song now.) I am excited to have another slice of this today when I’m not pushing over-fullness, because it was incredible and I think I would appreciate
it even more when my stomach had room. The crust didn’t come out of the dish very
well—I think the butterscotch sauce was absorbed into the pretzel crust enough
that it hardened onto the plate. So here’s a picture of pie with the crust on
the side (which wasn’t a bad way to experience it at all).
 |
| I feel like our dessert photos aren't as good as some of the other ones. Perhaps it's because we're already half-asleep and rolling on the ground from the main course. |
The butterscotch sauce was cool. It hit you as BOURBON
initially, but quickly receded into a warm, dark caramel, with the lingering
taste of the browned butter (I could definitely tell it was browned—yay!). I
find complex flavors like that rather magical. Like taking a little journey
with each taste.
An extra bonus is that this made an entire pie, so lots of
leftovers. (If you happen to be visiting from out of state tomorrow you are in
for a treat!) ;)
So…this probably wasn’t my faaaaaavorite menu of the three
we’ve done so far, but it was still excellent, and components of it will be
added to my go-to list. (Anybody want a biscuit???)
Some people, like me,
need the encouragement of a good meal to woo them to the table and to connect
with their partner, while others might need a walk or an intentional 15 minutes
with their partner. The point is to connect; whatever gets you there is more
than good enough.
-NWS, p. 169
Today’s 1%: I’ve only
been up for ninety minutes so there haven’t been many chances to knock this day
out of the park. But my day has been greatly improved because of the loving
kindness of my dear husband, who washed all of the dishes from last night’s merrymaking
before I came downstairs. Excuse me while I go give him all of the kisses…
Update: I went to give kisses and he met me with a cup of coffee. TRULY my knight in shining armor.
No comments:
Post a Comment