book

it has been one of those evenings when I actually feel like trying to squeeze out that book that intermittently percolates in my brain. but insead of jerking myself off with literary lallygagging, let's talk chicken. really. chicken dinner. The chicken dinner we had on saturday night.

it was no Stove Top selection, though it was all cooked on the stove top. Italian bf's friend who is in her mid 50s, Italian, and the mother of three boys (now aged 26, 22 and 18) cooked for us on saturday night as if she were cooking for her boys and husband. She visited us from Boston for a long weekend, no husband or sons in tow.

"I don't know how to cook for less than five!" she admitted as she transferred an entire cooked chicken from the blue enamel roasting pan to a glass casserole dish. She then poured the lemon/water/veggie bullion/garlic/rosemary/chicken juice onto the chicken meat in the glass pan. She truly was a mother hen feeding us like she feeds her babies. It felt really good. Moms are awesome!