Monday, April 12, 2010

Breast of Chicken Kiev

Since sitting down to write I have:

-Donned my NEW VINTAGE RAY BANS that were my FATHER'S. Over my own prescription glasses of course.
-Found a pair of tweezers in my backyard (thanks, New Brunswick)
-Considered going back inside because this picnic table, in addition to hosting a nation of termites, is so evenly splattered with bird shit that finding a clean space the size of my notebook and my elbows is nigh impossible
-Used my new tweezers to dislodge some bird shit! Then I carved my initials onto the table.

I'm outside because Shawn is in the process of cleaning out his iTunes, which is what organized people with new Macs tend to do. Really it just means listening to everything awful before deciding to go ahead and keep it. The following exchange occurred during one of Matchbox 20's most darkly intense power ballads:

SHAWN- Hmmm, when does it get to the good part?
ME- That is an EXCELLENT question.
SHAWN- I meant in our relationship.
ME- Excuse me, I think I see a perfectly good pair of tweezers glinting in the sunlight in our backyard!

Although I came out here under the pretense of working*, really I plan to spend some time perusing a cook book I found called Cooking With Audrey. This is one of those zillion recipe collections like your mom probably has. Flipping through the 762345 chicken recipes, most of them calling for a cream of __________ soup, I wasn't very impressed. That's when I landed on Breast of Chicken Kiev. Now here, I thought, is an authentic Eastern European recipe for what promises to be a hearty, stick-to-your-bones-even-in-this-harshest-of-winters dish. The name showcased its authenticity- in an otherwise exclusively English language cookbook, employing all conventional English grammatical structures, this ethnic gem is titled not "Kiev Chicken Breast," but "Breast of Chicken Kiev." Hahaha! Take that, all y'all who expect adjectives to come first!

Turns out Breast of Chicken Kiev is an almost unthinkable concoction involving flattened chicken breasts rolled tightly around logs [read: LOGS] of mushroom herb butter, doused in vodka, coated in breadcrumbs, and deep fried. In butter. Serve with more butter and a pitcher of vodka. Perfect for your next Serfs & Babushkas-themed dinner party.

Now, as I do hail from the deep South and am a passionate connoisseur of the region's cuisine, perhaps you are thinking, "Now ain't that the pot calling the kettle black." To which I reply: Yeah, I'm curious. I might very well try Breast of Chicken Kiev at some point, perhaps in the dead of winter when I feel there's nothing to live for. The only substitutions I might make are moonshine instead of vodka, and probably some ranch dressing seasoning in place of the mushroom and herbs in the butter.

*planning my summer geology camp, writing lists, thinking up ways to get really rich really fast

1 comment:

  1. Or just ranch dressing in place of the butter?
    I like to say, especially in relation to Southern food, "'Fried' is only one letter away from 'friend.'"