1. Score one for Harvest Market. You can buy three pound chickens there. I know, that may not sound exciting to you, but I'm tired of chickens being so big...they just aren't as good for roasting. When I first tried to conquer the perfect roast chicken years ago, it was with chickens that were between three and four pounds. And they were GREAT. My favorite version initially was Marcella Hazan's Roast Chicken with Lemons (which is still fabulous) but now I've moved onto my own even simpler version which is "take a three-four pound chicken, lots of kosher salt and black pepper inside and out, throw it in pan and cook it at 500 for 45-50 minutes, no turning, no nothing." Now this works with bigger chickens...but you know what? It's just not as good. When you get a rotisserie chicken at the store, or a roast chicken at a restaurant....they are three pound chickens....the way they are SUPPOSED to be! Ah. I feel better now.
2. The other night we cooked our delightful little three pound chicken, pairing it with beautiful salad greens from Farmer Greg (with just avocados, olive oil, salt and a dash of white balsamic vinegar) and some french fries (just because we had some in the freezer and it seemed like the thing to do...if you call them frites it's less embarrassing), with a bit of a pan sauce, and it was outrageously good. Here's my bad phone pic to document:
3. Here's Owen, last night, wearing his Romantics t-shirt, sucking on a sucker that he discovered God knows where, and holding my favorite Van Halen album, Women and Children First, under his arm. I just thought it was worth documenting.
4. Last night for dinner was a stir fry, per Owen's request. Nothing particularly culturally authentic about it but it was damned good. I've found the best way to get vegetables into Owen is to throw them in a stir fry. Last night we had gold and red bell pepper, sugar snap peas, and lots of onions and garlic with day old rice, some sliced sirloin, a bit of soy sauce and a dash of hoisin as I found we were out of sesame oil.
5. Later, Ernie and I turned off the tv because we were just tv'd out. We curled up in the living room, with me desultorily reading the Springsteen book on my laptop, and Ernie digging through stacks of old 45s. He looks so good when he does that.
Some things never change. Indeed.
6. Just now. Ernie and Owen headed off to get Owen's driver's permit: