languid

i read somewhere it all begins with a roux. i have seen people make a simple roux but it never did it for me like last night did it for me.

mom never made made gravy like that. neither did dad and he is in culinary arts education.

i never llike working ina kitche. i'm not fast, i like to ponder and putter. i'm not always the one to ask to throw something together. give me berkeley bowl and and hour tho i can throw it down and put you in a coma, food coma that is, hardened arteries and a happy tummy.

last night i chicken fried some nieman's pork loin, chops. i then threw the crispy chops in glass in the oven. that was a good idea and a bad idea at the same time. the idea was good because the stayed tender and moist while the oil dripped to the bottom of the bowl and bad because i lost the crunchiness a bit. the crusties in the pan as well as all the scrorched olive oil left over from the frying stayed int he pan. i turned off the heat and let it cool for a minute. i threw to thirds of a stick of land o lakes in there to melt. after the butter and the oil slick had pooled in a total liquid puddle i turned the heat back on and began to mix in whole wheat flour. the whole wheat flower turned into an interesting because throughout the process there would be sweet wafts of pastery smelling wheat. the smell of the wheat was so yummy.

i just worked it in. a teaspoon of lfour and stir with my stainless steel spatula which i rarely use. the spatual choice was an incredbly great choice for making a roux because one side fit perfectly in the concave corner of the pan. this edge enabled me to scrape the sides of the pan to prevent burning of the roux. the concoction would get a little foamy, like a creamy guinness and a dangerous puddle of oil down on the bottm. it almost blended smoothy after an hour of that process at which time i poured it into a coffee mug and placed it aside. i shaved an onion that i had halved and quartered with the grain so that i had a whole onion of delicate strands and minced two cloves of garlic from my friends garden. he is an endearing lush that provided me with strikingly dainty cloves of garlic with streaks of purple and crimson through the husk. the pan was returned to heat a lot more polished than when i had placed it on the fire earlier. i believe this might have been an effect of the new/old tool of steel. i gently brought the starnds of onion to an almost clear personna and returned the roux to the pan. the beautiful bubbles that ensued were delightful. the garlic followed and the movement of the gravy began so as not to scorch or burn any of the loveliness. a little half and half, a lot of chicken stock and the grvay went from bread batter to a brown pudding of heartstopping power. such a winner of spontaneous creation. delicate, rich and smooth. the grease didn't separate and the chops were rad. a little red beans and rice and the day is done. i missed the merry widows party, nikki will probably be quite disappointed in my flakeyness. <sigh> the ffod was o good tho i couldn't bear to move after a saturday of work and good food.