Wednesday night was chicken cacciatore (that's a chicken thigh you see there). Not because I planned to make it, but it was the last day I could possibly stand to leave that chicken in the fridge before it went bad. I pulled it from the freezer oh, Saturday morning? It was originally intended to be a whole, roasted chicken - but I didn't have time for that. So, me + chicken + dull chef's knife and no sharpener around = 20 long minutes and a huge mess while I chased Boy2 around the house. I think I need to invest in a cleaver when we go to Chinatown in a few weeks (NY- to visit my family for the holidays). In any case, it was delicious. Plus, I had a green pepper and some olives to use up.
The 'Husba3000'(TM), as I like to call him, decided we had to eat off my parents' wedding china set - which is nice! Boy2 had his usual "cafeteria-style-segmented-swansons-tv-dinner-style-unbreakable-melamine-with-alien-designs" plate from Target. Because we've learned how many fragments a particular style bowl or plate will shatter into when thrown from the table. And we've learned that allowing food to mingle on the plate creates a shreik (NO NO NO NO NO!) from Boy2 that even the hibernating neighbors can hear. Frankly, the pasta is served separately not because of Boy2... but because of the Husba3000(TM). [see previous post]
I also decided that I should break open a bottle of wine I bought the other day (Erath Pinot Gris - one of my favorites from Oregon). Mind you, this is not how we usually eat. No, really. I'm serious.