87. Veal Parmigiano (Veal Cutlets Parmesan)

So, I picked up a guy at jury duty.

No, really. I shit you not.

Yeah, I was called in back in October (yes, that’s how far behind I am with the blog). It’s not the best way to spend a day, but it could’ve been worse. They showed It’s Complicated starring Meryl Streep, Alec Baldwin, and Steve Martin. And let me say that there is nothing like seeing a large black man laugh out loud at a Meryl Streep movie. I have learned that regardless of gender, race, age, creed, there is one thing that everyone can agree on is that Alec Baldwin’s bare ass is hilarious. By the way, I miss fat Alec Baldwin. Now he’s all skinny and tinting his hair because of his 20-something yoga instructor bride. Whatever.

Anyway, there was a guy with good sideburns and Italian shoes in the row ahead of me, so when I wasn’t asleep or watching It’s Complicated I was trying to figure out what he was reading–it had pictures of old timey dudes with big mustaches and sideburns in it. Well, that book was my in. Once we were released from the waiting room at the end of the day, I moseyed on over and asked him “what ya reading?” (it was a book about the guy who built the Brooklyn Bridge) and it lead to a little chat which resulted in him asking me if I wanted to go for a beer–which we did, right then and there. Yay, beer. And he seemed nice enough and was an engineer. So then he asked me out for a for real date.

So, we went out for dinner! And it was a completely enjoyable night. But–and of course there is a but–we then decided to close the night at Ottobar. Lord knows what I was talking about but I somehow got around to comment on the educational computer game Oregon Trail.  Which is totally what guys what to hear about. So I was talking about how much I loved Oregon Trail and he said how much he loved Oregon Trail, which got me all nostalgic for other educational video games and I asked:

 What was the name of the lemonade stand game? (turns out the name of the game was Lemonade Stand. Duh).  You know, the one that gave you the weather reports and had the same crappy Apple II graphics as Oregon Trail?

He cocked his head and looked at me quizzically.  I realized that we didn’t play the same version of Oregon Trail. And I then I said, I have no idea how old you are.

Jury Duty Guy: I’m 26.

Pause.

But I’m gonna be 27 real soon.

And that is an actual quote, kittens: “27 real soon.” He should have just said, I’m 26 and this many months,  and held up 7 fingers.

Lord knows how old he thought I was when he first met me at jury duty. After that exchange he probably thought I was almost 40. Apple II? Whoever heard of such a thing!?!?

I never spoke to Jury Duty Guy again.

I have to get over this. Because it is a fact that the older I get, and the longer I stay single, the younger my dating pool will become.

Speaking of getting older, yesterday was my birthday. I’m not one for celebrating the day of my birth, but it’s worth noting that my co-workers were so nice that they got me a birthday fruit bowl (I’m back on WW, darlings) and last night I went to the happiest place on Earth, The Prime Rib, with my dear friends Todd and Leah (yes, the long-suffering Cleveland Brown fans). It was an absolutely wonderful martini-soaked evening. But I hate that I am offically in my mid-30s. It hurts to say it.

But I digress. Back to the older I get, and the longer I stay single, the younger my dating pool will become. You see, I don’t get hit on by single men in their thirties because They. Don’t. Exist. Perhaps they all got dysentery on the Oregon Trail and are buried somewhere in the Utes. So I am left with Jury Duty Guy. And the 22 and 23-year-olds who hit on me at ibar.

But really, is that all there is? Am I now destined to be with children of the mid to (and god-forbid) late 80s?

It makes me long for the days when my friends called one of my boyfriends “Young Justin” because he was all of 2 years younger than me. Scandalous!

Oh, but you know what else is young?

VEAL.

Excellent segue way, Emily!

This dinner was from–oh shit, I don’t even know. I am guessing that it was over Labor Day because I made it while I was back in Pittsburgh.  And I know it wasn’t over Thanksgiving or Christmas.

It may have been a long time ago but I did have some photos and a quick timeline, so here is my Veal Parmesan–sorry, Parmigiano–which did turn out nicely.

4:45 pm: I combined a can of drained Mandarin oranges with some red wine and then put it in the fridge to chill.

4:50p m: I began the veal. I breaded the cutlets (GF flour, egg) in a mixture of gluten-free bread crumbs, Parmesan cheese, dried parsley, dried basil, garlic powder and Season-All.

5:23 pm: My veal cutlets were browned beautifully because it was done on a real stove and not my dinky apartment stove. I put them aside and put together the red pepper salad. Which was just items from the gorgeous antipasta bar at the Market District. So here’s some red pepper, olives, and marinated artichokes. Yum. That went into the fridge.

5:38 pm: I sat down. My mum makes a mean risotto, so I left that to her. I can’t even remember what kind she made. But I am 100% certain that it was delicious.

6:20 pm: I got the sauce on the stove top. In lieu of going through the hassle of making a sauce from scratch, I just doctored up a jar of Ragu with some fresh herbs from the garden: chives, oregano, basil, and flat-leaf parsley.

6:30 pm: I assembled the veal parmesan with the sauce and the cheeses.

6:35 pm: Veal went into the oven.

6:55 pm: Plating.

7 pm: Dinner is Served!

 This one was delicious. The oranges in red wine was odd–it just needed some brandy and apples and I’d have a nice sangria. But over all, this was a winner. Well played, Dinner is Served.