Domesticated for one night only

I don’t cook.  At least not regularly.  To me, cooking dinner is an event that requires mental and physical preparation.   When people ask me, “Do you cook?” I respond, “Sort of.”  And it’s only “sort of” because my definition of cooking includes heating up things that were previously frozen, which I know is not real cooking.  But lucky for Mr. S and me, I am excellent at ordering!  Living in NYC, there are 5 major food groups: Pizza, Chinese, Thai, Japanese, and Mexican – all of them equally convenient.

So it must be a very special occasion when I do try to “whip up” something in the kitchen.  And by “whip up,” I mean research the dish I will make online, go to the grocery store to buy the required ingredients (because I have none of those so-called kitchen staples), precisely measure each ingredient using measuring cups and assorted spoons, and meticulously put together my dish using no less than 3 pots and pans.  Oh, and all the while, running back and forth from the kitchen to the laptop to make sure I am correctly following the recipe’s step-by-step directions.  See why I don’t cook often?  It’s exhausting.

But last night, I must have been feeling inspired by the 20 Costco chicken breasts staring at me from our freezer.  Why do we buy bulk chicken breasts if we don’t cook?  I have no idea.  All I can say is that we got a good deal on them.  I checked out the rest of my existing supplies in the refrigerator and cabinets: garlic in a jar, Dijon mustard, breadcrumbs, and dried herbs and spices.  The only reason I have these things on hand is that they are the non-perishable leftovers from those rare occasions when I was feeling particularly domestic.  I avoid looking at the stamped expiration date on things that come out of my refrigerator and have faith that my 5 senses alone will let me know if something has gone bad. 

I thought that all those ingredients would go well with chicken, but I did a quick Google search just to make sure.  Lo and behold! – my planned concoction did exist and it was called “Easy Breaded Dijon Chicken.”  Sounds delicious.  Any recipe I attempt is marked as either “quick” or “easy.”  I can’t imagine the damage my kitchen would endure with something called “advanced.”

And so, my normal cooking pattern began: sit at laptop, run to kitchen, measure 1 1/2 tablespoons of mustard, put in bowl, run to laptop, run to kitchen…and so on and so forth.  It’s a good thing we live in a small studio.

Here’s a list of my ingredients and supplies (I also made roasted asparagus and couscous):

• 2 chicken breast halves, skinless & boneless
• 1 1/2 tablespoon Dijon mustard
• 1 1/2 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1/2 teaspoon dried tarragon or basil
• 1 cup fresh breadcrumbs (who actually makes fresh breadcrumbs?!)
• salt and pepper
• chopped fresh parsley  (I didn’t have this and it was only for garnish, so I omitted it)
• 1 bunch asparagus
• 1 box 5-minute couscous
• 3 large dishes – 1 for defrosting chicken, 1 for soaking chicken, 1 for breading chicken
• 1 baking sheet
• 1 other baking vessel (I don’t know the technical term for this thing)
• 1 small pot
• 1 small pot lid
• tongs
• measuring cup
• 1 tablespoon
• 1 teaspoon
• 3 forks (used in the cooking process, not for eating)
• 1 big knife
• 1 small knife
• 1 cutting board

I should mention at this point that our small studio comes equipped with a very small sink.  It quickly overfloweth. 

One thing I am pretty good at is orchestrating the various cooking times and the final reveal.  Voila!

It wasn’t as pretty as the online version, but still tasty.  When Mr. S got home from the gym I announced my good deed for the day:

Me: I made dinner!!! (cue trumpets and confetti)

Mr. S: I see.  It smells good.

Me: Hurry, hurry, try it, try it!!

Mr. S: I have to shower first.

Me: EAT IT NOWWWW!!!!!

Mr. S: Ok, ok.  Are there carbs in couscous?

Me: I don’t know.  You don’t have to eat the couscous.  (That only took 5 minutes of my time…I didn’t care about his opinion of instant couscous)

< Mr. S eats while I hover over his shoulder >

Me: So is it good?

Mr. S (mouth full):  Yup!  Good job!

Although I’m sure Mr. S knows better than to answer that question with anything but an enthusiastic affirmation of my cooking skills, I really do think my Easy Breaded Dijon Chicken was a success.  Another one for the history books!