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Archive for March, 2007

Ms. Jo

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-23-2007

Last night, we had something new for dinner, to be precise, Jo’s Chicken Vesuvio. Now, we have tried a number of Jo’s recipes and most have become favorites here in Casa Kitchen. In fact, when The Boy came home from school and asked what is for dinner, I said, oh, I’m trying something new, from Ms.Jo.

I did not have to tell him who Ms.Jo was.

Taking to heart her instruction that brown was flavor, after browning all of the ingredients, we had to open the kitchen windows : what a smoke ( or something) filled the room !

But every single person in this family loved the dish, which is rare in this house. From The Boy, I am to tell Ms.Jo ( who I would tell myself, but age is whithering me and I can’t read her anti- spam code for two cents) that this is now his favorite way to eat peas. And when The Girl came home from Indoor Brabant and reheated the dinner, The Girl ( yes, The Girl) said This is GOOD.

The recipe is here and I am going to keep a copy of it here as well, for this will be a permanent addition to our daily fare.

This dish is very simple to make, and the only time consuming bit is browning the potato in the beginning. This step is important as it forms a crust on the outside of the potato that contrasts nicely with the floury texture you get inside from roasting this in the oven.

I originally found this recipe on epicurious several years ago and as usual over time we have changed it to suit our likes.
The story of the origin of this dish is a long one and contains many arguments from a restaurant called Vesuvio in Chicago to Giada stating that they call it vesuvio because the steam coming from the pot once the wine has been added billows up like that from the volcano. In the end I think the basic theory of a typical southern Italian dish of chicken cooked with potatoes rings the most true for me.

You’ll need 2 russet potatoes, peeled, cut into wedges.

Some chicken, preferable thighs and split breasts with the bones still in for flavour and moisture, but if you must, boneless and skinless can be done. When I’m feeling particularly naughty I skin the thighs and render the fat to cook the potatoes, otherwise some olive oil in the pan with a touch of butter to raise the smoke point will do.

Sprinkle that chicken with some garlic powder, some dried oregano and a bit of salt and pepper and let it hang out.

Peel 10 – 20 cloves of garlic.
Yes.
I said 10 – 20.

Have some chicken stock and a little white wine warmed up in a pan, maybe oh 1/2 to 3/4 cup total.

Break out your dutch oven or something similar that can go from stove top to the oven, with a lid.

Heat your oven to 450.

Now, heat up the oil and butter and saute those potato wedges, not crowding the pan until they are nicely brown. Remove them to a plate with paper towels and add some more until they are all browned.

in the same pan, add your chicken, brown it nicely as well.
On all sides!
Do this in batches if you need to as well. Never crowd your pan as it will steam and not brown properly.

Brown is flavour.

Once the chicken is browned, put the potatoes back on top, add the garlic cloves, push em down in the nooks and crannies.

Sprinkle in 1/2 to 1 tsp dried red chili flakes and if your like me a bunch of Aleppo pepper too for flavour.

Pour in the wine/stock combo, bring to a boil.

Slap a lid on it.

Put it in the 450 oven for 25 – 30 minutes.

Open it up, see if your chicken is cooked, 165 F if your a thermometer person, clear juices when pricked if you’re old fashioned or used to that method.

Add 1/2 to 3/4 cup of frozen peas, petite ones please.

Back on with the lid, back in the oven for oh, say, 5 minutes.

When it is done, you have lovely chicken, soft russet potato spears with a nice caramalization on the outside that have been steamed nicely by the chicken juice and stock and wine. Take some of those now soft and sweet garlic cloves and smear them on your potato spears (or some bread) and have a bite of the chicken.

So good, so easy and yet another thing to do with that chicken.

Update

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-23-2007

Still no news on The Boy. A call last night has now put next Tuesday as a possible date for an outcome.

But first, they would like to have The Boy tested at some pedagogic institute, to see just what his capabilities/ aptitudes are.

So, we hurry up and wait.

Tomorrow, Tomorrow…

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-21-2007

Tomorrow we find out if The Boy can stay another year in his school.

After many a day of mulling and dwelling on various and sundry things ( including one rather impassioned comment of The Boy’s that he would just like to have one year where he actually had friends in his class), I think that it would be very good for him to have this one year. Most of the boys in the class below him are on his football team and like him fine.

He is 11 years old. The boys in his present class are all older than he is, up to two years older.

As an aside, he takes enormous pleasure that he has sprouted up so much that he is no longer the shortest boy in his class. In fact, he is taller now than his nemesis , who is 2 years older than he is ( as another aside, why on earth does an 11 year old have a nemesis ?).

To continue with the trail of asides, today in wrestling ( that sort with mats and grapples or some such things- how on earth would I know ?) he trounced his nemesis. Not with a bad, vindictive feeling- for those feelings are totally alien to The Boy ( Hi. I’m The Boy. I like everyone…..ohhh, a mother’s bane), but just a sortof I’m not the weanie in the class any more feeling.

We talked about this as we took the bus to his keyboard lesson today.

Last week, the bus was 20 minutes late.

Today, the bus broke down : red lights were flashing on the drivers panel, no speed could be made on foot to the floor. And so the driver stopped the bus.

I pulled The Boy off of the bus, imagining a gas leak, overheated engine- what do I know ?- something that would blow the bus 6 meters off of the street.

That is my job : to find danger in every nook and cranny.

And there we were, middle of no where.

After a long pause in the bitter cold, the next bus came and we hup- twoed to Ther Boy’s lesson.

I am getting more than bored with the poor bus service these days.

Protected: 20.03.2007

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-21-2007

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Of Fire !

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-20-2007

Most of the audience were old farts, as The Father put it.

There were two kids and The Boy was one of them.

His review : the best concert that he had ever been to ( and for an 11 year old kid, he has been to see quite a number of living legends ).

Even The Father had a great time.

Balls….

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-20-2007

He played these numbers:

Set list of last night’s show in Eindhoven

1) Roll Over Beethoven
2) No Headstone On My Grave
3) Mexicali Rose
4) Hadacol Boogie
5) You Win Again
6) I Get The Blues When It Rains
7) Sweet Little Sixteen
8) As Far As I’m Concerned
9) Before The Night Is Over
10) Blue Suede Shoes
11) What’s Made Milwaukee Famous
12) Over The Rainbow
13) Great Balls Of Fire
14) Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’On

Show length: 57 minutes

Great…..

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-20-2007

On Saturday, he was in Eindhoven.

Protected: 11.03.2007

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-19-2007

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The Messenger

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-14-2007

Last year- when, so to say, the shit hit the fan- I was the bringer of tidings filled with much less than comfort and joy. The phrase don’t shoot the messenger took on a rather deeper meaning for me then, like, yup, know what you are saying, got that one down pat.

At that same time, I- the messenger- was told not to keep things hidden within in my breast. No, I was to pass down all of the up- to- info right away.

Even though the phrase don’t shoot the messenger took on a rather deeper meaning for me then, like, yup, know what you are saying, got that one down pat.

I have known for the past few days that it was time for me to bare my breast again- rather like Saint Sebastian-to be the messenger once more.

At the risk of sounding smug, I sometimes long for the days when my gravest concern was whether or not the poop looked right and the cherub would suck down some nasty looking porridge.

I must add that looking at that porridge, I never blamed them. I would not have touched that vile pablum with a ten foot pole.

And therein- perhaps- lies that fatal chord, which shall follow us forever.

One never knows.

Protected: 03-03-2007

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-13-2007

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