Three more days of relatives and pastries from the outlet store
I never thought I would miss home because of food. I have been so sick of that damn diet that I thought a brief respite in the land of unlimited Entenmann's would lift me out of the culinary doldrums. But no. I had forgotten my parent's house is the place you head for when you get the hankering for grilled cheese sandwiches made from cheese that one unwraps one sheet at a time, fakin' bacon, and periodic threats of "fish soup." The boyfriend would be horrified. Also on offer this week, lovely halusky, Polish sympathy food modified to suit the other 48% of the ethnic population of the region by substituting farfalle for the egg noodles. It seems like everything I have eaten here has been various shades of white. Which brings me to fond memories of this:
That would be chicken in mustard sauce and braised leeks with tarragon. One kid ate the chicken without coercion and I managed to get both of them to actually try the leeks- touching their tongues to and even chewing and swallowing something they had never tried before- and their heads didn't even fall off or explode in horror or anything. The leeks- just cleaned and halved and thrown in a casserole with white wine, little lumps of butter, salt and pepper and fresh tarragon. Maybe some stock? I forget, but simple comfort food eagerly gobbled up by the adults. But not by babies. Oh hey,
BABIES!
P.S. I think I wrote this because I was a bit embarrassed by the previous post.
