Mint impressively alters the flavor of leftovers. With the airy mint fragments, the chicken here becomes something completely different from the original roasted chicken, and if one's fix on reality is not so rigid that it precludes lapses, then with the first bite of this breathy mint couscous it is quite possible to be transported to Morocco.
Morocco?
Yes, Morocco. MOROCCO. MOROCCO. Look, this is my story, a'ight? and I'll tell it how I like.
Chicken from two days ago. Goodness, has it been that long already? This shows that I am just flat not hungry, and that is bad because I can feel the pounds slipping away. Pants are looser. Belts cinch up a notch farther.
Couscous from even longer ago. I'm surprised it is still serviceable.
So I hosted a little thing over here and at the end people went, "Oh, let us get everything sorted or at least started," because everything is out in the open and always looks worse than it really is. The whole place shines right up real fast, but at the peak it looks hopeless.
Then the people bailed. I did not get right on things because I was tired. I slummed it instead for days and increased the mess without first clearing the surfaces and restoring order. Eventually I used every piece of serviceware, even all the pieces I avoid because they're stupid, like the little bitty forks designed more for children than for salads. I never depleted them all before. The small pieces I don't like using act as a warning alarm that I'm nearing the end and to wash them. I bought several sets to make sure that I never ran out. It's a bachelor survival thing to plan on loading up the dishwasher without ever running out of a fork or a plate.
Did you see what happened to that roasted chicken? Honestly, my heart is not in it entirely. I am not very hungry and it is bigger than I thought. I intended to boil the carcass along with another chicken carcass that is saved in the freezer, you know, two battery chickens to equal the chickeny goodness of one free range chicken, but when this chicken here was started to boil it was clear that another pile of bones together with it is too much for my home equipment.
The chicken was picked over, meat reserved, and the rest turned into soup. The usual thing except this time I returned all the vegetables that were originally the bed for the roasted chicken and themselves fully roasted and flavorful. For some inexplicable reason I wanted fennel seed in the chicken broth, so that right there will distinguish it from all the chicken broths, stocks, consommés, soups that preceded this one. But this chicken broth that I am showing you here has nothing to do with tonight's couscous. I am showing divergent paths that portions of the roasted chicken are going down. This is for educational purposes. These things are happening concurrently.
The chicken broth is also flavored with long pepper.
I do not know what long pepper is. I haven't yet dared bite one to find out.
So the chicken broth is not done yet but in the meantime the chicken pieces are nibbled away.
1 comment:
Oh, I do so like you and your goo-fay blog ever so much. You brighten my days. Sort of like a nonsense bug that flits about for a few moments when your site is opened. Perhaps one with a bit of food stuck to one shoe? Do nonsense bugs have shoes you may ask. Well, what other sort of bug would you expect to have shoes?
Thanks. Do keep it up.
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