
It all came out really well, and I did not cry. That chicken is soooo good, it's almost worth the trouble and tear potential. And it sort of makes me wonder what I could do with a real kitchen, or at least a working oven thermometer.
I think my family's tired of all my emails detailing what I've cooked/eaten, either that or I just really want to share the love. This is the journal of what Craig, Meg, and Hollie Hobbie put together. Remember the rule! "If it sucks, we can order pizza."
I almost posted pictures of last night's dinner, but they came out about as well as my passport photo (assuming I don't actually develop a dread skin disease, it's unlikely that will ever convince a border agent of my identity). Suffice it to say it was good and quick. I'm still trying to use up leftover ricotta from those pork chops, so I made a sauce with that, bacon, leeks, tomatoes, and herbs (deglazed the pan with vermouth) for whole wheat shells. Craig and I agreed it needed something, maybe roasted red peppers, maybe sausage crumbled small enough to fit into the shells. We had steamed Maine broccoli, and I took a page from Craig's book and made a tarragon mustard butter to top it. I drank a Dogfish Head Punkin Ale, my first ever, but definitely not my last. That stuff is soooo good!