Skip to main content

Kung Pao Chicken

Recently (read: the last 5 years) I've been the main chef in our little household. My idea of dinner before I met The Prince was frozen ravioli, decorated with a dusting of parmesan cheese consumed over the sink. (I still think this counts as dinner. And a milk side? A carton of coffee non-fat frozen yogurt. Mmmm.)

But The Prince (likely reacting to other stress in his life) has been actively interested in cooking again.

Now, The Prince is not what I would call a gourmet chef. His specialties basically are chili, chili and chili. (REALLY good chili though.) I can cook about 5-6 things very well, and tend to supplement those with a lot of chicken breasts broiled until just this side of rubber. I do however bake very well -- extremely well -- and given how prone I am to complimenting myself (read: never.) I'm telling you, I'm pretty wicked with the butter, chocolate, sugar and flour. (and lemon, eggs..come over one day and I'll whip up some cardamom madeline's that will knock you numb.)

Tonight The Prince broke open the Time-Life cooking book that offers recipes in both lasagna and pork buns with scallion sauce. At about 10 am he announced he was making King Pao Chicken and made himself a shopping list. At Whole Foods he tossed into the cart some sesame oil, ginger, unsalted peanuts, organic chicken. (I tossed in some pork chops -- insurance items....)

At 6 pm he had three burners going and I took The Rabbit out for a visit with friends, and to pick up some ice cream bars for dessert. 45 minutes later I walked home to this:



My own naked chef....
Labels:

Comments

Kate B. said…
euww. I have to say MM that I am not coming over for dinner any time soon....

(But don't tell the Prince I said that).

I'm up for the madeleines though!
2:30 pm
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...
11 comments
gimme more...

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...
13 comments
gimme more...