What did I just say about meat, salad & carbs? Came home in a great mood which quickly turned sour for some irrational reason I know not of. Possibly child-related, possibly home-improvement-induced, possibly Office-linked, possibly none of the above. Exclaimed to the Wife that my interest in cooking was directly proportional to my interest in being alive, and that I had no desire whatsoever to cook on this particular evening.
It wasn’t as if there was no food, I mean the fridge had some stuff in it – principally a vacpack of chicken thighs from the farmers’, some Tesco traffic-light peppers and some Tesco green beans. There were also bits and pieces of green stuff in my grimy salad bins.
Chicken is something I find hard to get excited about a the best of times. All you can do is use it as a vehicle for something you do like. In this case, on account of my lack of will to live and good intentions to hold some food over for the children, my options appeared few. So the thighs ended up being scored and rubbed with that prosaic mix of garlic and paprika, salt and oil and roasted on the top shelf for three quarters of an hour. Half way through I threw in the peppers halved into six pieces and mixed up a quick yoghurt &
A small handful of black olives went into the salad of cucumber, celery, a few leaves and some cooked and cooled green beans. And it was the best part really, the skin having not quite crisped up on account of my turning down the oven too early. I still haven’t properly mastered how to work that steely bitch, not really. Not if it came down to a matter of Life or Death.
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