I am chicken.
Well, I made chicken, yes.
Specifically this dinner, 34. Herb Broiled Chicken. But I am chicken, as well.
It was about this time last year I was dating Mr. Buckeye. Do you remember Mr. Buckeye? He was the meatball guy. From that BH&G Cooking for Two, there was the Double Up and Divide section, so I made 48 meatballs, which were then meted out in 4 different dinners: Meatballs Stroganoff, Oven Meatballs in Barbecue Sauce, Meatballs in Sauerbraten Sauce, and Spaghetti and Meatballs.
Sadly, we will never know how the spaghetti and meatballs were. This is why…
Things were going swimmingly with Mr. Buckeye–we’d see each other about twice a week. We’d go out to dinner, watch Ohio State games and NFL games together, shoot guns (yes, shoot guns). He would make me breakfast. I both dropped him off and picked him up at the airport. The airport pick up is a big thing, amiright? I even watched NASCAR with him. NASCAR!
We saw a lot of each other. It was fun. Easy. And he was really easy on the eyes. Like, super-easy on the eyes (think young, hot, Alec Baldwin). I am not kidding you, kittens. The little bitch was a looker.
So I thought: OMG, I kinda have a boyfriend! And then: Do I have a boyfriend? It sure seems like I have a boyfriend.
The night before Thanksgiving (we were going to a Thanksgiving dinner together), I prepped root vegetables to be roasted the next day and he baked an apple pie (how cute is that? He even wore an apron).
After doing all the baking and prepping, we sat on the couch and drank scotch. He showed me on his phone a picture of something or other (probably his dog) and the phone scrolled down to a text conversation between him and his mother. I caught the words: Her name is Crystal. She’s a waitress, but I see real potential there.
Me (like an idiot): Are you trying to get this girl a job?
Him (talking to me like the idiot that I am): No, babe, I’m dating her.
What the ever-loving fuck?
He was taking me out for real, actual dates, where he paid for everything and shit. We were set to have Thanksgiving dinner the next day. We were planning a murder mystery party at his house together. He introduced me to his parents. Who does that when you’re seeing other ladies as well?
For serious, who does that?
BUT! In his defense: we never talked about being exclusive.
Which is true. I never had the guts to initiate the “where are we?” conversation. I was never sure if I needed to. I felt like we had just slid into a relationship of sorts. See? Me: chicken.
So, long story short: no spaghetti and meatballs. There may be 12 meatballs still sitting in Mr. Buckeye’s freezer.
I should also note that I don’t have the guts to properly break up with someone and tell them that I’m no longer interested, either.
So I do The Fade Away. Sometimes even the pre-emptive Fade Away, so as to reject before I’m rejected. It is passive aggressiveness at its finest!
But, boy-oh-boy is it fucking annoying and frustrating when a guy does The Fade Away and disappears into the ether of the internet when you’ve gone out on a number of dates (like, a good number of dates), and then poof! They just no longer exist. No texts. No emails. No phone calls (but of course, there were never any phone calls to begin with since we now live in a conversation-averse world where a guy would rather send 20 texts over an hour trying to make plans for next Tuesday when a 5-minute phone call would suffice).
So then I’m there dying to know what went wrong or what I did wrong, but can never ask that because they’ve already become the kid on a milk carton.
Anyway, lesson learned. Now I automatically assume that everyone is simultaneously dating 5 other people. And I assume that they assume that I am doing the exact same thing.
And maybe one day I’ll grow a pair and be able to have The Talk like an actual adult. If the occasion does ever arise.
But until then, I’m just going to make the rest of these Dinner is Served! meal cards.
#34 I made for Todd (Leah had already moved to Ohio at this point. SAD FACE), and a lovely couple I met through the Ohioans, Justin and Bukola.
I was excited because there was a Jell-O mold involved. I used a beet salad recipe from The Joys of Jello (1961). Basic ingredients (because I am too lazy to go take a picture of the actual recipe): lemon Jell-O, grated onion, chopped celery, canned beets (diced), and the beet juice.
Are any of you surprised in the slightest that I kinda dug the beet salad? I thought it was pretty good.
Anyway, this here is the finished dinner:
My fruit cups are ultra-classy because they are canned fruit cocktail in little disposable punch glasses.
Todd made a great green salad in lieu of the Green Lima Beans in Butter-Onion Sauce. We weren’t going to make another Lima bean dish. Especially after the debacle that was the Lima Bean and Cucumber Salad from dinner #84 Grilled Hamburgers. That was disgusting. I don’t know if Leah has ever forgiven me for that.
Anyway, with the exception of the watermelon peel, which I found completely unappetizing, this was an win in my book. The chicken was great. And I have used the basic herb/oil mix on chicken and broiled it multiple times since I made #34. Chicken is cheap and I always have oil, dried herbs, and lemon on hand. I am a fan.
I would like to thank DiS! for introducing me to broiler cooking. I think that before this dinner the only thing I had ever put in the broiler were lamb chops.
Well, requested by Todd, at least.