One thing you should never do is brag, unless you’re willing to follow through with what you’re bragging about. One should probably not brag for the sole purpose of being jealous someone else is taking a four day weekend, either.
In my case, I was wondering what I should make for dinner the other night. I was wondering aloud. In front of two people who were obviously hungry before lunch. I mentioned that I was going to make a variation of Chicken Kiev.
Before I go on, I should clarify my use of the word, “variation.” Anybody that knows me knows that I basically make things up in the kitchen. Usually it doesn’t turn out the way I wanted it to; sometimes it works out better than I thought it would. On this occassion I made a mixture of butter and garlic and a mixture of ricotta and parmesan cheese with Italian herbs. Then I wrapped a chicken breast around it, rolled it in bread crumbs, and dropped it into some hot oil.
So, I was bragging because I really didn’t think I could make a Chicken Kiev, but the idea intrigued me. On the way home I bought what I needed to make my idea of it.
Everything went well, actually, until it came time to fry it. I made a test chicken first. Actually, I don’t always just make things up. Sometimes I look around to see how things are done first. As far as I could tell, nobody actually tells you how to roll the chicken around the mixture. In restaurants, I’ve seen it look as if the cook just injected the stuff in a chicken breast. It wasn’t at all obvious that the breast had been pounded flat and rolled up. Mine looked like a deep-fried turd. It also kind of came apart, but was still together enough to look like a turd.
With the second breast, I tried something a little different. I wrapped it more like a burrito by tucking in the sides first (to keep the cheesy goodness inside) and then rolled it up. I must not have held on to it well enough in the fryer because when it came out it had opened up, but it was stuck in the shape of a bowl. Kind of neat, but not what I was looking for. I have to say, though, that while I’ve seen bowls made out of tortilla’s, I’ve never seen a chicken bowl (or a house fly).
In both cases, though, my guinea pigs — I mean kids — tried it out. I went to two, seperately. Both looked at them in digust and asked what it was. Both tasted it (these kids will try just about any new food!), and both deemed it tasty enough to eat for dinner. Ugly, but with a tasty interior. Chef Ramsey would have a stock pot over my head and beating it with a metal spoon for making such an ugly dish.
Now, the bad part about the bragging is that I was dared to bring it in on Wednesday so these two people could have a taste. I don’t actually feel up to making it again, but I don’t want to be seen as an empty blowhard.
Maybe I’ll just make up a bunch of it and serve it to everyone at work. Maybe I’ll just keep my mouth shut and hope that everyone forgets I ever mentioned it.
In case anyone is interested, I served it over spaghetti with some jar sauce (Cabernet Marinara, I forget what brand) and some sauteed squash and zucchini. Just for kicks, I took a small amount of both of those and breaded them and tossed them in the hot oil, too. They tasted pretty good that way.