This evening we made Chicken No. 14,753- Deviled Divan [recipe, via Oprah] which pretty much replicates the dinner we made yesterday. In addition, a pile of broccoli cooked with lemon peel is placed on top of the chicken, the sauce with a splash of hot sauce is poured on top, and grated Swiss cheese is sprinkled on top. The dish is put under the broiler until the cheese browns, and it is served with crusty bread.
The chicken we used tonight was much thinner and more cutlet-like than breast-like. Unfortunately this meant that it ended up tasting like a dried out old boot. We tried to ignore that while eating the meal and passing judgement, after all the chicken yesterday was pretty moist and reasonably pleasant. In our opinion, more hot sauce could have been added to make more of a kick. It was almost undetectable amongst the creamy mustardness. The cheese was nice enough and I enjoyed the broccoli; L, however, was not so keen. He became even less keen when he bit into some unidentifiable object and nearly gagged. He insisted that I tried it to see what it was, and amazingly idiotically I actually did. In the dim lighting of our living room it looked like chicken, and at first taste I thought maybe it was rancid fat. After a few seconds of thought I realised it was a piece of boiled lemon-peel that had been left in with the broccoli. After that neither of us felt much like eating the rest of our food, which, alas, was no great loss. Overall, this meal was disappointing. It tasted like something from an institution renowned for mediocre food. This shouldn’t be too much of a surprise after yesterday’s meal, but we tried to have higher hopes. Och well, maybe Chicken No. 14,754- Chicken Bustard (in Basil-Mustard Sauce) will be better. The basil has a lot of work to do to redeem this series of dishes. And the awful title.
Today was another good day, A is doing much much better with the baby, although in fairness she is more interested in N’s hospital-issue pom-pom hat and her belly button scab. She asks to see the belly button over and over again. When we unearth the, admittedly quite repulsive, black thing she says “I don’t like it” and runs away. L took her to the zoo again today, and all the way there she asked to see the ostrich. As soon as they saw it she said “I don’t like it” and wanted to go away. So they are on first name terms with the flamingos apparently. The blossoming relationship will probably be cultivated a little more next weekend.