Chicken Mole

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I really love to cook. Even back when I wouldn’t eat, I would read recipes like they were novels. As the years progressed, there was not time, little money, family grief for experiments failed (I will never hear the end of the acorn squash incident) and then, why cook for one? Call me a secret gourmet. I’ll get in moods, mostly in the winter, where I will binge cook – barley risotto, stuffed pork chops, sweet potato gratin. Love the warm, filling meals. When I date, they are really well fed. In summer, I’m a grilling maniac. Salmon, vegetables, glazed peaches – yum!

My buddy/friend/partner/associate, DA, and I share a love of what he calls “tasty” meals. We share recipes and give remarkably similar cooking gifts. For my most recent birthday, it was jack pot with multiple cookbooks and homemade recipes. This past weekend I made Sweet Potato Chips but with mixed success. The inconsistent width made for some perfectly crisp and others a bit soggy. I need a Mandoline, something I have only mocked in the past and brings up memories of Merritt’s missing finger section.

Tonight I made Chicken Mole out of the same low-fat cooking collection of the Chips. Living it up, I’m drinking what has now become a rare glass of wine (hence the double posts this evening). Mole rocks but now I have four meals that will get old after a while. Not to Kenzie’s taste. She’s a more Pastaroni, Mac and Cheese kind of girl.

Perhaps for the weekend – Rhubarb and Pear Crisp.