I came home from work last night to the delicious aroma of a chicken in my kitchen. Let me clarify. It was a chicken in my oven in my kitchen! My son and his girlfriend, Claire, came over in the afternoon and prepared a most delicious dinner for me! The days of me making dinner for myself are long gone. Or, almost long gone. Except for throwing together ingredients from my garden, I don't think in terms of a meal consisting of courses. That is, unless you consider crackers and cheese followed by herring to be two courses. But then, that was in my hors d'oeuvres and cocktailing days. I've scaled way back on the cocktails and carbohydrates since my recent run in with my "fatty" liver and hyperglycemia, so any fun involving dining has been nearly erased. It's just eating to survive now. Eh, no joy in the single life anymore!
Getting back to the dinner last night. It was a chicken that was stuffed with lemon, rosemary and whole garlic cloves and roasted over cubes of hearty bread. Corn on the cob so sweet that we wondered if it was even possible to be that sweet and a lovely salad. The star of the meal was the chocolate mousse. It was made from scratch. All of this was such a lovely and delicious surprise. It's been years, if not decades--possibly never?-- since I've come home to a meal already prepared and the kitchen all cleaned up. Let's not forget that it was another hot, hot day here in the midwest so this was indeed a heroic effort.
Here's the most ridiculous part about this wonderful feast. I had no available platter for the chicken! The dishes were a mix and match affair. In the house of a dish collector, how does this happen? I must have 12 platters and 6 complete sets of vintage dishware but they are all tucked away in my basement in bins after the horrible flood exactly one year ago yesterday. It is still painful to think about this.