Tonight is not my night. In the kitchen, that is. LOML has long wanted to try making southern fried chicken (english style, Nigella, of course), and I have been told to get out.
Hmmph. What's a breadmaker to do???
Yours, ex cucina,
N.
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5 comments:
Get out, and then smell the chicken. Frying that is.
Dig into some delicious chicken--that's what I'd do. And that is why I am morbidly obese.
But really, fried chicken should be its own food group.
Michele says hi.
Star, Carli, that is exactly what I did --- that and run the corn-on-the-cob shuttle. Unfortunately, after last Friday's tranforming experience, none of the corn I've had since has been close to edible: I think that I have just been unlucky three days out of the past six, but.... Still even the torrential rain two days ago which battered the corn in the garden seems not to have destroyed it, so hopefully this week or next we can get to it:-)
Oh, and LOML's fried chicken was great:-)
N.
Oh how lucky are you!!! I have never NEVER been kicked out of the kitchen...
Sometimes I wished I had, but most of the time, it is just lil old me in there...
Maybe one day...
Here from Michele's this fine Sydney afternoon...
thanks for stopping by earlier, and your kind thoughts as well...
Although I am not what anyone would confuse with a chef or even a good cook, I am bt far the most skilled in my humble abode. Scary, huh.
Michele sent me,
Mike
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