It was magic. I had hearty leftovers with big ideas. Some pork, some roasted root veg could so easily be made into omelets or bubble-n-squeak, but no I remembered a trick my mama used to do. If I was hungry and the dinner window was not open, she would give me a snack that wouldn’t curb my appetite. She would offer healthy foods done all fun like. I was of the generation before baby carrots, so she would thinly slice cute carrots for me to nibble on while I waited for dinner. Her other trick if carrots were not available was the ol’ toothpick routine. You see, offer a child anything in bite-sized pieces with a toothpick and you hit gold. She would give me a small dish of red kidney beans with a toothpick that shut me up until dinner was ready. It’s all about presentation, I tell you. So riding this wave, I thought what could be more funner than soufflé?! Not a damn thing. I’ve made a fair bit of soufflé and nary a catastrophe have I encountered. Until, that is, I tried my first savory soufflé. It all worked out so perfect. The leftovers a-go-go, the soufflé mash nicely fluffed and the timing right on. I stuck it in the oven and got a great rise. But let me tell you, the soufflé doth rose but it was a total flop. For some reason, the innards were an absolute stream. Boo! And there goes my blog post. “no, soufflé is so easy, why don’t people do it more often?” I’d ponder. “Are they afraid of a little egg fluffing?” Ha ha, but the joke is on me. Brent thinks the oven was too hot. I think he was right (but, please don’t tell him. It’ll ruin my perfect score). I recooked the little bastards and they cooked all the way through. At that point, it was more omelet, less soufflé.
Cut to the next day. My soufflé debacle slept on and a need for our next soup. I’m trying to always have a pot of soup on the stove to keep us healthy and warm. I know you can’t stick a toothpick in soup, but the kids enjoy it mostly. From where I eat lunch I can see the chicken coup. It’s a coup with too many roosters. I want to make soup … I have too many roosters … I look at recipes. There’s one that I’ve made before called “poule au pot” that is LOVELY. You stick an entire chicken in a pot and make it all soupy with yummy legumes. I don’t have a chicken. Though I notice, one finger pointing at a recipe calling for “farmer’s chicken” and four fingers pointing back at me (well, three fingers pointing back at me and a thumb in desperate need of a manicure pointing down at the ground somewhat). Aw well, I’ll go do the laundry. I’m not afraid to air my dirty laundry. We have a lot of it as we are a family of six and making dirty laundry seems like our M.O. I hear a squawk. I hear a thump. I see a black chicken fall. Legend is fairly good with the chickens, but has an uncontrollable need to chase ten specific chickens. Sadly, Zora was one of those chickens. She would have gotten away were it not for that nasty window she thunked into. It wasn’t looking good for Zora, so I had to act fast. I suddenly saw soup in our future. I gave Zora a few moments to recover from her nasty run-in with the window to see if she’d perk up. She didn’t. Then off to youTube for “chicken processing.” TONS of videos on how to process chicken. And so off I went. I will tell you this, the “coning” went fine. The plucking needs work. The gutting went okay. The smell of the soup bubbling away, divine. I woud’ve kept Zora for eggs, but she made a wrong turn into a window. We’ll soon see how the poule au pot turns out. As with most great things, it’ll take some time.