Familiarity breeds... excellence?
I got some groceries today, and agonized ("agonized"... I was fine) over whether to try pork for my protein or just do chicken again. In the end, I went with what I knew, which I do half-regret since the purpose of doing all this cooking and writing is to LEARN.
But the other side of half-regret is half-not-regret, and that side is very unregretful, because the chicken I made was some of the best ever. It was pretty much the same thing as "always", these days: thighs browned in butter then cooked in a covered pan full of rice and the rice liquid (chicken stock and water). Lately I've been dumping sage-in-brown-butter on top. It is GOOD. I suppose I've made it four or five times, but this time was the best, and it was a great feeling knowing before I started that I knew what to do and that it would probably be pretty tasty. The whole point of this exercise is to banish some of that dorm-like aura of utilitarian misery that hovers over the lives of a lot of single men living alone, if they don't fight back somehow. Actually looking forward the food you make for yourself is a huge step in the right direction.
