I really enjoy making a nice meal for my sweet husband. It's especially nice when I can make something that looks nice as well as tasting good. That was my plan tonight...I have a recipe for a fantastic chicken dish, that I haven't made for a while.
I got started in plenty of time, got the chicken coated, the pan heated, the butter melted, put the chicken in the pan, picked up the cranky baby, transfered him to his highchair - where he's a little happier - turned the chicken, and noticed it was a little darker than normal. Thought it would be okay, so cooked it the rest of the way, while putting water on to boil for some egg noodles. The chicken was done, so I pulled it out of the pan - now second guessing how good it would be with how dark it was. I added my noodles to the now-boiling water, measured my cream for the sauce - after tasting it to make sure it was still sweet (plus, I find I'm really fond of that little taste of pure cream!) - poured it into the pan so it could gather all the nice (burnt?) flavor from the chicken. It looked pretty close to the right color, just a smidgen darker, so I tasted it. It tasted just a tad different than normal, but not burnt, so it should be okay. I put some green beans in the microwave, stirred the sauce till it was thick, added the rest of the butter to finish the sauce, it looked almost perfect!
At that moment my sweetie got home, so I threw the colander into the sink so I could drain my noodles, drained the noodles, grabbed the pan with my sauce in it, put it on the table (on a trivet), picked up my little guy out of his highchair, turned off all the burners, and went to greet my hardworking man. He came in, hugged me and the baby, dropped off his water jug on the dining room table, then went out to get the mail. I went back to finishing my dinner preparations (just the dishing out of all the seperate items), and noticed the sauce had broken. (Instead of being a creamy sauce, there were basically grainy bits of flavor swimming in oil) Now, all this time, my sinuses had been getting more and more troublesome, and this was just the last straw. The chicken was burnt (I could see that clearly now, no optimism left), the sauce was broken, and my head hurt! I took the pan to the door so I could show my sweetie. I showed him, and cried. At least the noodles were done right!
He thanked me for working hard to make him a nice meal, got me some pain killers for my terrible headache and ordered pizza. I truly am blessed!