As some of you already know, over the past year I decided to try and learn ‘How To Cook’. You know, like with a stove, and an oven, and recipes, and ingredients. In fact, I have even surprised myself on several occasions.
Do any of you remember when I made these fabulous Lemon Chickens? And how they came out of the oven so unbelievably, perfectly, delicious!
And,
Does anyone remember the time I miraculously created these totally super amazing Sesame Encrusted Tuna Steaks placed lovingly over Risotto?
Yeah?
Well, this story doesn’t exactly have a happy ending.
Nope.
This story is about a girl [namely me] who had NO BUSINESS trying a new recipe and who should NEVER defer away from the specific directions.
I will have you know that even before I got in-touch with my ‘Inner Italian’ and stopped fearing the kitchen, my one specialty has always been Pork Chops with my homemade Mashed Potatoes [from scratch]. And quite frankly, I should have stayed inside my wheelhouse a couple of weeks ago.
But, instead?
I attempted to expand my horizons, and put my culinary skillz through a painful and unnecessary test.
And that?
Was only the first of many mistakes I would make that evening.
Before I go any further, I must preface this post by acknowledging the fact that I severely underestimated the Power of Flour. I’m not sure if any of you have ever experienced the power flour truly possesses, but, after what I went through? I think unbleached flour could be quite useful in the field of construction.
Now let me explain why….
A few weeks ago I decided to cook ‘The First Meal’ I would ever cook for my boyfriend and I wanted it to be a memorable experience. I wanted to make some thing extra special.
Inspired, I chose to make ‘Chicken Roll-Ups’ a seemingly easy recipe that promised to deliver greatness to one’s pallet. [Trust me when I say, if cooked properly Chicken Roll-Ups taste much better than they sound.]
Overly excited, I got right down to business. I placed parchment paper on the counter and covered it with flour, just like I was supposed to do. I took thin slices of chicken breasts out of the package, washed them, and drizzled them with Extra Virgin Olive Oil, just like I was supposed to do.
Then, I proceeded to ‘lightly dust’ each side of the chicken with flour. [And by ‘lightly dust’ I mean: completely smother] just like I THOUGHT I was supposed to do.
After the chicken was prepped, I placed each slice flat on the counter stuffing them with what could have been a delectable explosion of flavor.
Lovingly, I placed a few slices of Provolone Cheese and Prosciutto bought from my local famous A&S Italian deli. [Side bar: A&S really IS the greatest Italian Deli possibly In The World. Yanno, outside of Italy.] Then, I sliced fresh cut Asparagus into perfect slivers before placing all of the ingredients into the middle of each chicken breast. I gently rolled them up, used a toothpick to hold them together, and then I sprinkled a dash of breadcrumbs on top.
Honestly, they looked amazing.
[You are just going to have to use your imagination here people because sadly, I did not take a photo.]
The last thing I had to do was make a light sauce to cover the stuffed cutlets and bake them in the oven.
I took one can of Campbell’s Chicken Broth, mixed it with equal parts of only the best White Wine for cooking [and relaxing], and cut up fresh Lemon slices without getting any pulp into my eyeballs! I also peppered in a ‘splash’ of flour in the mixture to thicken the sauce. [And by ‘splash’- I mean: large heaping spoonfuls] just like I THOUGHT I was supposed to do.
I prematurely patted myself on the back as I slid the glass-baking dish into the pre-heated oven. I busied myself preparing Wild Rice and steaming Sweet Peas while my son JCH and Sonny shared laughs watching Television together.
Twenty minutes later my house filled with a warm and inviting aroma.
And it smelled delicious.
But then?
Everything went downhill.
When I opened the oven to check on dinner, I noticed the chicken breasts still seemed awfully white. And, I am pretty sure chicken is never supposed to be that color.
Nonetheless, after I saw the provolone oozing out of the sides of the chicken two thoughts ran through my head.
1. The chicken was an odd shade of white due to the melted cheese and there was nothing to be concerned about.
OR,
2. Maybe the temperature on the oven was too low, and all I needed to do was turn the heat up.
Little did I know heat and/or cheese had nothing to do with coloring of the chicken. And, little did I know the coloring of the chicken was the least of my problems.
Another fifteen minutes went by and it was time to take the chicken out of the oven. But something was still very wrong.
Much to my dismay, not only was the chicken still a funky shade, the sauce it had been roasting in was a lot LESS like a sauce, and a lot MORE like raw concrete.
Yeah.
Um.
Apparently, excessive amounts of unbleached flour convert into Sumo Gorilla Glue, especially when exposed to heat. And if you try to stir the mixture? That will only make matters worse. I witnessed my ‘light sauce’ spontaneously turn into mortar right before my eyes.
Horrified, I stood over the baking dish blinking my eyes in rapid succession AS IF that would change the appearance of my meal. I was hoping maybe my dinner only LOOKED terrible.
But I was wrong.
And then I prayed to the cooking gods for some kind of miracle.
[Which of course failed.]
Honestly, I have no explanation for what I did next.
I went ahead and plated the food.
And served it to the people I love.
Yep.
Full well knowing I no longer had an edible meal that would be pleasurable to anyone’s pallet. Seriously, it was ‘gravely disgusting’.
Now, I don’t know if Sonny really loves me, or, if he is out of his mind, or, if he simply lacks taste buds all together, or, if he was just STARVING, but I will never figure out HOW or WHAT possessed him to clean his plate! And he even went back for seconds.
On the other hand, my grandfather, Poppa Sye, kind man that he is, tried one bite, and then another – before ever so politely eating the rice and peas SURROUNDING the chicken.
My thirteen-year old son JCH, took one bite, spit it out, left the table and went to the kitchen to make himself a bowl of cereal.
By time we finished at the table [which could not have been more than ten minutes] we returned to the kitchen [henceforth referred to as ‘The Crime Scene’] only to discover something even more repulsive.
The sauce left in the baking dish, along with the leftover vile chicken, had thickened so much you could have Cut It With A Knife. And I’m pretty sure that’s NOT a good thing.
In fact it’s safe to say the 1st dinner I ever cooked for ‘The Love Of My Life’ was nothing short of an Epic Failure!
I did the Walk Of Shame for a week after that!
On a good note?
I think I may have inadvertently discovered a CURE for Crohn’s Disease. Um. I had NO IDEA flour could have such a ‘binding’ effect on one’s intestinal track. Needless to say, no one has been to the bathroom since I last cooked.
PS:
Did you know that a really hot oven can [and will] curl your eyelashes so far back they practically come off? And, may cause your contact lenses to become so dry that they literally adhere, directly onto your cornea.
Yeah well, neither did I.
Lesson Learnt.
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