I wish I had better friggin’ lighting and a camera not attached to something that makes phone calls as well. And before you go all ape shit on me…yes…those are canned carrots.
Anyway. I’m pretty sure I nailed it on both counts – curry chicken and risotto.
Crispy curry skin on the chicken. Tender juicy inside. I love it when the skin on baked chicken becomes an appetizer. That’s an orgasmic mouth moment for me. No recipe for this one yet. Sorry. There’s just one more thing I think it needs before it’s ready.
The carnaroli proved to be a tricky adversary, but I like a good challenge (a la sloppy joe crime scene, kitchen juice, and naked bacon frying with a frilly apron).
In my previous post I talked about the risotto thing in more detail. I used a rice that my friend gifted me. An organic, non-GMO, gluten free carnaroli thingie. YUM!
Here’s the trick with this particular brand of rice:
First…melt you a good glop of butter in a pan. Pour in about a tablespoon of olive oil too. Toss in your rice (1 cup) and get it all coated in fatty goodness. After a minute, toss in some chopped onions. When you hear it frying or popping, pour in your alcoholic beverage of choice. About 2 ounces to start and be prepared to add more later. Just don’t get it drunk.
Make extra broth and be prepared to babysit. I used the common brand here…Maggi something or other with pollo in the title. You use 2 cups of water for each cube. Easy peasy.
For one cup of rice, I wound up using 2 cubes and 4 cups of water. Plus about 6 ounces of beer during the process. I saw a recipe that used champagne instead of wine. and I was like, “Beer has bubbles, bitch!”
I made sure the broth stayed bubbling hot the entire time. That way when I added more to the rice, the temperature was the same. Aha…grasshopper gets it now!
Let me tell you, we had some cheesy fun with the plating on this one, but only because we were giggling at how great this tasted.
Here’s the fun part…
The best thing about cooking is that it’s not the final product. Oh no. OH HELL NO.
When you’re the one cooking, you’re a fucking slave to that kitchen, and yet you are still the master of the universe. It’s you. It’s that stove. It’s that oven. It’s that damn rolling pin. It’s dinner and you conquered it.