Pan-Roasted Chicken with Rosemary, Garlic, and White Wine
As I read through the S&P 500 tear sheets this afternoon, I found myself hungry, having not eaten much since last night. I asked Aaron if a short, one-hour trip to the grocery store were a possibility, and we both stopped what we were doing, headed to our local market, and picked up quite a bit of the ingredients we need to try several more recipes that are on my task list; the trip secured with the promise that I would cook for us when we returned home as neither of us really had time to be taking a detour in the middle of the day given what is on our agenda this month. I thought, perhaps, the store wouldn’t be busy in the middle of a Thursday afternoon but I was wrong. It was packed. Though the upshot is I did find a Merlot cheese somewhat similar to the Bordeaux one I had at Club 33 in Disneyland a few months ago! Obviously, given the differences, it wasn’t an exact match, but it was decently close and had a great flavor. I snacked on it as I cooked.
I had hoped to make either a roast Easter lamb with white wine, or a pan-roasted lamb with juniper berries, but there weren’t any acceptable cuts. I ended up making the pan-roasted chicken with rosemary, garlic, and white wine, giving me a chance to figure out the exact concentration we prefer in the sauce. It had one of the best scents I’ve ever experienced in a chicken dish. Even better, there are hardly any ingredients – a tiny bit of butter, vegetable oil, garlic, fresh rosemary, salt, newly ground black pepper, and dry white wine. It was served with a side of lightly buttered red potatoes and, in my case as always, a Perrier (not only do I find it refreshing, I’m doing my part for team Nestlé).
It’s also possible I enjoyed the process of cooking this particular dish so much because I decided to break into the cookware collection and pull out one of my favorite sauce pans of all time, which I haven’t used in awhile. I ended up working on the MacBook at the counter in the kitchen as I periodically checked on the liquid levels around the chicken, adding a few tablespoons of water if it cooked off too quickly; half the time, I found myself staring at it like you would a work of art or new car. I love it when art and engineering meet. I’m also crazy about this particular combination of flavors, as I’ve made a no-knead bread using the same ingredients.
I thought about making macerated oranges or an almond cake for dessert, but have too much to do at the moment. Maybe I’ll get to it tomorrow if I have a block of free time.
Reader Comments (2)
Comments are presented chronologically, with replies indented beneath the comments to which they respond.
FratMan
October 26, 2013
When you were in high school and college, did you break stupid rules with any regularity?
Joshua Kennon
April 15, 2014
Replying to FratMan
High school: Yes. Constantly, and it was not the most optimal way to behave. With the wisdom of age, I would have complied with a smile, charmed everyone, and gracefully slid my way in doors rather than force them open. I was a terrible example. I hope my kids don't behave that way when I have them. I could have gotten what I wanted with far less effort had I employed subtly rather than force.
Perhaps it was the fact that I was still close enough to poverty I lacked patience. I was shoving every penny I could into brokerage accounts. I ran into someone from high school awhile ago and he was joking about only seeing me when I'd walk into the middle of a computer lab, pull up stock quotes, and walk out. It was a totally unnecessary way to behave but everything turned out alright. Had we known better, I probably should have taken the GED at 13 or 14 and bailed. It was a complete waste of my time, though I wouldn't trade how my life turned out for anything so it's hard to be upset about it.
If I thought something lacked a rational basis, I simply didn't comply, often pushing it much further than it needed to go. I once had the head administrator hurl office supplies at my head in frustration in the middle of a parent teacher conference because he couldn't come up with a logical counter to my arguments about the particular grading system which treated different students differently, and reduced a literature teacher to tears despite never raising my voice. It wasn't purposeful, I was just young, obsessed with my goals, and had no patience for arbitrary rules drawn up during the industrial revolution since school was so easy for me. There was a point where they probably wanted to expel me since I missed 1/3rd of my senior year, even though I was there, reading, on school grounds. They couldn't because of my GPA, which I think frustrated them. My thought process at the time: Why did I need to attend every social studies class? They were talking about the Bill of Rights and I was reading the Federalist papers and biographies of the founding fathers in my spare time. Why did I need to attend required choir rehearsals? I was taking lessons at the best private conservatory in Kansas City and had locked in a scholarship to one of the nation's best music programs for the niche I wanted to pursue. They had to kick me out of one of the teacher lounges during the Al Gore / George Bush recount battle that waged for weeks following the November 2000 election to attend classes. I vaguely recall something along the lines of, "You want me to go read about the last time his happened in 1888 with Benjamin Harrison and Grover Cleveland, yet not actually watch it unfold in real time?" I loathed the stupidity. Contempt is too light a word. It was also a bit problematic that very shortly thereafter I was earning more than my teachers were, which only added to my conviction that they needed to stop wasting my time. I wouldn't want to go back for anything, even though the people were great and I made some of the best friendships of my life during that period. I regularly have dinner with several people with whom I graduated and we're still part of each others' lives.
College? No. The moment I hit adulthood, I took to heart Buffett's advice about "arranging" your life, which I carried in my heart with religious conviction. I chose my university, my courses, my professors, and my relationships so I could maximize my own goals and have freedom over my time. I vowed I'd never again be subject arbitrary or stupid restrictions if it was at all in my power to avoid it. If I didn't like something, I got in a position of power to change it. If I couldn't change it, I accepted that I was the one who had signed up for it, and it was a necessary cost of getting what I wanted, foolish or not. Maturity meant realizing sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do. I loved college. I loved the personal responsibility, the friendships, the self-management.