Today The Boy and I made our first venture into Indian cooking with some left over chicken and a whole bunch of spices. None of those spices, I might add, are the three new containers of Indian spices that I bought last week from vague recollections of recipes I had read. So now I’ll be looking up recipes that specifically call for curry, turmeric, and coriander. Woe is me.
As I was mixing the marinade for our masala, I was having a pretty awesome day. And then I started to pull chicken, left over from Sunday’s dinner (a story in itself), from the bones and dropping it into the marinade. Just as I reached the point of no return – and no stopping – I realized that I’d forgotten to pick up our vegetables from the co-op. And I had half an hour. I put my poultry picking into overdrive.
Meanwhile, Obi was circling my feet and crying. Wouldn’t I please give him some chicken?
No time for feeding a little brown mooch, I finished with the chicken and threw the marinating shreds into the refrigerator. Because I’m not oblivious to my poor starving kitten’s plight, I tossed the chicken skeletons back into their baggie and put it into the refrigerator as well.
Then I was off! Luckily, the co-op is at a store that is only ten minutes away from my house. I had time to get there, gab with the ladies at the store, load up my veggies and get home before my time was up. While I was gone, The Boy came home. He put away veggies.
Then I put him to work.
While The Boy finished cooking the masala, I found a quite respectable amount of chicken left on the bones. I picked it all off and made a pile on the two plates in the breakfast nook. I called the kittens. Since The Boy and I had said “tuna” about forty times in the last ten minutes, Kitten Thunder was a little surprised to find chicken on their plates.
But it was ear licking good.
So, I might add, was our chicken masala.