This is a sentence I’d never thought I’d say, because for so long I felt like I couldn’t cook. But the last time I visited New York, I tried some leftover chicken that my friend Kristen had made using this recipe. It was no mere lemon chicken; it was Meyer lemon chicken, the difference between Meyer lemons and regular lemons being along the same lines as that between a Rolls Royce and a shopping cart that you sit in and push down the street with a pole. This recipe got me to not only cook my first-ever whole chicken but also to turn that bird into food that tasted good. In fact, I was so pleased with my most recent iteration of this dish that I photographed it, and I’m not usually one to photograph what I cook.
And I’ve since recommended the dish to anyone needing a dish that seemed special, that suggested a higher degree of skill than he or she actually possessed.
Since my friend Dina is shambling toward matrimony, I passed it along to her, so her husband won’t abandon her once he realizes her wifely skills are lacking. That suggestion resulted in the following GChatted conversion today.
Dina: interesting factAnd I couldn’t be happier than the chicken recipe continues to entwine itself into my life. Soon we will be one.
i was trying to clean chicken juices off my keyboard yesterday
after attempting to make your lemon chicken
after i finished cleaning i looked at what i had accidentally typoed
and several times i wrote "drewsdrewsdrews"
because that is where the chicken was spattered
and now i know i can write your name by rubbing my finger in a circle
which sounds terrible
and that is all