This evening we made Chicken No. 14,754- Chicken Bustard (in Basil-Mustard Sauce) which was a much better meal than Chicken No. 14,753 [recipe, via Oprah]. We cooked early and sat down to eat with A who pretty much only ate a piece of bread, but L and I enjoyed the chicken (even over the “I want jam” tantrum. Mind you that was a minor tantrum compared to this morning’s effort involving furious jumping up and down because the toothpaste on the brush was wrong in some way. The shear dramatic energy involved in that episode made for a hilarious meltdown, in all honesty). The recipe is very similar to the previous ones, with the addition of onion, garlic, pesto and fresh basil in the sauce. I made a much more generous serving of sauce today, as a half serving has proved to be a little scant the last couple of days.
The sauce is extremely rich and thick and creamy. We never would have conceived of combining mustard with pesto, but it was an exceedingly successful partnership. The flavours offset the sharpness of each, if that makes sense; the pesto was less pesto-y, and the mustard was less mustard-y, and the combination was both tangy and smooth. A seemed particularly betrayed that this “pesto” was not the one that she was looking for, and she kept asking for some of my pasta pesto, as if we somehow had the real thing and she’d been given a lame imitation.
We served the chicken with some spinach salad and crusty bread. This dish would have worked really well on a bed of wild rice or a potato dish with salad on the side. Tomorrow we will be feasting on Chicken No. 14,755- Chicken in Mustard-Tarragon Sauce, although we may well have that at lunchtime. Some of our neighbours just brought round the most enormous lasagna that I have ever seen, complete with salad and breadsticks, which I am guessing will be a most welcome break from chicken. We haven’t had lasagna all year. That is a long time to be lasagna-free. I am officially excited.
It seems unbelievable that this time last week we were just about to leave for the hospital. I can’t fathom how Baby N has only been in our life for almost a week; in some ways it seems that she’s always been here. Talking about her and A this evening, I called them “the girls” for the first time and it warmed my heart. If there was a checklist of clichés, we are marking them off one by one. It is amazing how much easier things have been second time round from delivery to recovery to just getting on with life. Which is not to say that there haven’t been moments of hormone-fueled craziness, but overall things are going so much better than I dared to hope. Maybe one of these days we’ll even manage to get some stuff done during the day, but for now, it’s good to just keep on falling in love.