For hours now, I’ve had most of a rotisserie chicken lightly boiling over the gas stove. I’ve added two saucepans full of water during that time, as it continually evaporates into the air. I’m terribly forgetful that it’s there—but thankfully Dave is a stove watcher. Likely because I intermittently leave a low-burning flame going even after cooking, his attentiveness means no pans will be scorched, and no disasters unfold.
Homemade chicken soup is the goal: large chunks of carrot and onion, with—I’m thinking—udon noodles. Because out of spaghetti, vermicelli, penne, and rice noodles in the pantry, the udon will thicken in the broth in a way reminiscent of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup.
Why didn’t I go with egg noodles? Well, that would require going to the store, and I’m a make-do-and-get-creative kind of gal.
Getting creative is exactly what I’m doing with the mouthwateringly savory leftover spinach and artichoke dip in the fridge. I’m turning it into a pasta dish. Which is brilliant of me to think up, and I’m quite sure it has never been done before. To pizzazz it up even further, I’ll sauté cherry tomatoes and garlic, then purée them and add that to the sauce as well.
As you may be able to tell, I’m feeling all sorts of food-inspired this new year.
I’m bad at doing two things at once. On the TV is the Seahawks, and thankfully, a commercial just came on. Their falling short of a first down means San Francisco—or “Frisco,” as my dad refers to them—will have the ball and a chance to tie the game.
I haven’t paid much attention to the Hawks this year, but after hanging out with my fanatic parents and watching last week’s historic comeback, I’m officially on the bandwagon.
Okay. I’m on the home stretch of Buffalo Hunter Hunter. After hearing my best friend’s take on it—and knowing Dave’s friend Marty enjoyed it—Dave and I are reading it together. It has a vampire spin, and had it not been recommended by two very different people I trust, I never would have gotten this far. But at 80% in, I can tell you this: my teeth are fully sunk into this book. I’ll see myself out.
Love Jaclynn
Going On 40 