Before we proceed, I need to acknowledge two individuals who helped make dinner such a success. The first is Dan, and by extension, all the folks at Grazin' Angus Acres who practice some sick ass voodoo to make their chickens come out that way - the chicken is so good that, try as I might, I cannot curse Dan et al for making them so damned expensive. If that's what it costs to have chicken that good, well, I guess I've been suckered in. Locals, this chicken can be yours as well on Friday and Saturday at the USQ Greenmarket and Sundays at either Carroll Gardens or the Museum of Natural History. I will not receive a kickback, there is no ulterior motive save the fact that this is the best goddamned chicken I have ever eaten in my life! The second is Adam of The Amateur Gourmet who provided me (and the rest of the internet - we're not actually acquainted) with this recipe for roasting a chicken. So easy, a one-armed blind man could do it with finesse. If you've never roasted a chicken, I swear to you, I was once just like you, and then I discovered the two gentlemen just mentioned and now I roast chickens and devoted partner thinks I am the one with the sick ass voodoo.
My clothes are becoming pinker by the day. I now know, as in know for certain, that there are no items in the wash that have never been washed before. I know this for true. Yet, this morning, I removed more pink clothing that had not been pink before. Where does the pink come from? I am now resorting to the clusterf*ck that is the internet to get remedies from the masses for arresting this horrible development and, I fervently hope, salvaging the already pink clothing - I mean two white button downs, people - I need those shirts so that I can look not crappy. Bleach and Cascade. Lemon juice and bleach. Bleach and bleach. Some people are claiming that the one actual bleed from the first time I used this washer is lurking within and that I will need to perform some kind of washer exorcism involving bleach and empty loads. I am running an empty load right now sans bleach because I don't have bleach. I now know where I'm going after work, though. The bleach store.
But, on the bright side, something that should be pink (well, purple really, but I'm trying to wordsmith here!) is definitely pink and tastes fantabulous: the concord grape sorbet part 1. It just finished churning and is now hardening in the freezer. I'm feeling quite good about how it looks and tastes, so much so that I see a quenelle photography session in my future.
1 week ago