Our Sundays begin bright and early around here. The first alarm sounds at 3:45, and after my morning beautification routine, I brew a cup of coffee, blend a couple of smoothies, wake up my number 1 guy pal with a smooch (about 4:45), and he gets cooking. You see, although he pulls chef’ing duties throughout at the week at Rooster’s Uptown (if you live locally, please promise us you’ll grab a date and head there for a meal… it is truly fabulous… I mean, not that I’m biased or anything), on Sundays he volunteers his time to cook chef-inspired meals for 180 hungry church volunteers and staff members. I count myself chief among them and take advantage of my position to cut the line and pinch those little cookin’ buns. Because while it’s all well and good to kiss the cook, I like to make sure his charcoals are well stoked, if you know what I’m sayin’.
Because he asked me very specifically not to blog the details of our morning, it included dumping my smoothie all over my car. A fun clean up at 5:00 in the morning. Convincing myself that I was going to get shot by a gang on my way to Uptown (I always make eye contact and smile… something I’m sure will be this little plentifully-rumped white girl’s demise). Around 7:00 I received a most unfortunate call from my main squeeze reporting that our oven had… well… it had met its own demise. The meal he was preparing for those 180 wouldn’t be coming to fruition, and we needed to make some plans for some kitchen… shall we say… upgrades.
Limited for the next couple of weeks to items we can make on the grill, in the microwave or in my beloved crockpot, we had to combine our culinary efforts tonight. With 70 pounds of chicken left in our custody – some cooked and nearly curried, we had a little bit of work to do before we could thoroughly enjoy our dinner. With his incredible sauce, tender chicken and my crockpot “skills” (I have lots of skills that actually require, you know, skill, but I’m not sure that dumping everything into a dish and letting it cook for a very long time counts as that, so I add the quotation marks for humility). Nonetheless we married our strong suits and the resulting meal was, in a word, succulent. I was even able to cook up a mess of spaghetti squash to serve as a bed for the curried poultry using water and the microwave. Our night was punctuated with rescuing a family of hatchlings from the garage and finishing with a sugar sweet treat courtesy of Sweet Tater Blog’s “Healthier-ish Peanut Butter Cups,” a household fave.
It was pretty fantastic that despite a broken kitchen, we could make beautiful things by combining our talents. I mean, we’ve known that in certain arenas (wink wink) but the kitchen? Check that one off the list.