Chicken Littles

Chickens were on my mind. At Martel’s this week, a new section of the fowl section was set aside for Cornish hens.  The ladies’ magazines had been featuring these little hens more as a fancy dinner party item and I wanted to try my hand at them too.  I wanted to invite Chloe and Francis over for dinner again since the children played so well together last time and we got to act like adults at the table without the children for a nice dinner.  I was sure that Steve wouldn’t mind having male company and he and Francis had a lot in common.  Neighbors need to be neighborly and I was sure this summer we would be seeing a lot of each other over the back yard fences.  Chloe was integrating well into our group of girls and had spent time with everyone at their homes over coffee and treats.

One of the benefits of having company was the chance to do an extra thorough job cleaning.  I loved the smell of our house after it had been well-cleaned.  The tidy, uncluttered nature of a clean living room reminded me of those beautiful pictures of fancy homes.  Rethinking the placement of the items on my kitchen top encouraged me to put away items that I didn’t need everyday.  Chloe had a very sparsely topped counter in her kitchen and her wooden table always had a fruit placement that resembled an artistic painting.  My aspirations were high that my home would be as chic as hers.  Chloe’s innate Frenchness spilled out effortlessly.

I called Chloe and made a date and asked her to bring Marie Claire along for Daisy.  I would feed the children first and they could play while we dined.  So grown-up. After we set the date, I decided that I would practice my new dish on my family.  I bought two Cornish hens at Martel’s and took my big knife to cut them in two for the preparation.  I had cut up many chickens in my day, but these little ones were much easier.  I knew that this way kind of a fancy dish for the children to enjoy, so I settled on letting them know that I was just making little chickens for dinner. Junior dragged the sauce off of the top of his but he did eat the chicken underneath.  Daisy liked it because it was “her size” chicken.  Steve pronounced it a keeper and said he didn’t even mind having it again next week.

With my new classes, new writing assignments and new recipes in mind, this was starting to be a new me kind of year.  Who knows were all this will lead?

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