Congratulations! You are now reading blog entries by a newly guilt-absolved writer. No, I didn’t go to confession–I merely finished some very important pieces oh…72 days past the deadline? Yes, really the only thing Kim Kardashian and I will ever have in common. Phew. During my mad scramble to finish, Eli was put on cooking duty on days I didn’t want to boil pasta. Which was probably just as well that we didn’t have much material for GT because we didn’t have much of a writer. But now we do! Enter, Honey Soy Wings. Wings are always a hit, anywhere. While they’ve been aggressively marketed as “dude food”, it’s just a poorly assessed marketing strategy to promote these delicious bits to the predicted group of most-wings-consumed. “They/The Man” clearly has not witnessed the carnage that results from adding a Linda to a plate of Wings.
Tag Archives: Chicken
This morning I woke up and smelled something so antithetical to roses that I would only wish it on my most hated of archnemeses. Parker, our teenage kitten, tracked poo(?!) onto the breakfast bar…in the area I finished a burrito bowl last night. And you know what? Smeared, oxidized avocado can look like poo! I sniffed it. And because my head and nose is stuffed in the morning, I sniffed it twice.
Reserved for the most hated of archnemeses.
Two of the most popular menu items in Chinese takeout eloped and had a lovechild (a tasty, tasty lovechild!). Orange Sesame Chicken. I know–its not a very creative name. Its tantamount to naming Eli, “David Sue Jaffa” or “David Sue Jaffa 3.0” (ask him about being a middle child). Can you imagine the Presidential Family going out for a walk with Barack Michelle 1 and Barack Michelle 2? Awful, I know. So moral of the story is: be grateful your parents were creative with your names, and make orange sesame chicken. And eat it, okay?
You know, I learned something today. I learned that when you’re busy getting your business casual butt out the door to make it on time to the first interview for your (potential) second job, you should probably check the weather forecast. Just something to keep in mind should you ever decide to be…I don’t know…”prepared” or perhaps “dry”? I stepped off the bus and in a few short blocks, I went from young professional to undead child from The Ring.
Even after a nice hot shower and a piping hot mug of cider, my sulking and still wet inner-child wasn’t placated. This situation required a serious hug. A serious food hug. Enter: Butter Chicken, or Murgh Makhani.