This was most certainly a weekend of sloth and indolence. Granted, my GF and I did take several walks (including running errands in the thundering rain showers that Philly had on Saturday), but most of the weekend was spent lolling around in bed, drinking pineapple orange juice and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But, oh, the food! I sure did have some good eating.
On Saturday, I decided to reacquaint myself with my (disruptive and aggravating) oven. I haven’t used it since December, when I had to call maintenance when it took over an hour to heat up (and there went my visions of Christmas cookies). But I decided to be adventurous and see if I could coax it to work. It did, and I got a lovely, rosemary-scented roasted chicken as a prize. I love roasting chickens—it is one thing that I never fail to do well. This was a delightfully simple recipe from Marcella’s book. It only comprised of the chicken, three cloves of garlic, dried rosemary, and two tablespoons of olive oil. Pop it in a 375 degree oven for an hour and 15 minutes, basting it every 15 minutes in its own juices, and voila! You have a crispy-skinned, tender, juicy chicken.
Sunday showed up sunny and chilly for day light savings’ time. The GF had an interview in the Gayborhood, so I toddled down with her and sat in the Last Drop and drank a chai latte. Afterwards, as we walked with rumbling stomachs past the St. Patrick’s Day Parade on Broad Street, we debated what kind of food we wanted. Sandwiches? Pizza? Brunch? We finally settled on a whim for brunch at the Happy Rooster. The Happy Rooster is an eclectic little spot with a dark and cluttered bar and larger, airier dining room. It is one of those places that seem to abound in Philly, with very random decorations and beautiful old-fashioned walls and ceilings. I had chorizo hash with eggs over easy, while the GF has marinated skirt steak with potatoes and scrambled eggs. Her potatoes turned out more like Belgian French fries (think Monk’s), while her steak was delicious. My chorizo hash was very flavorful, though greasier than I would have wished. The best part was sopping up the leftovers with the crunchy toast points that accompanied my entrée. I also had a Bloody Mary, my favorite Sunday morning drink. And whoo-eee! Watch out for the Happy Rooster’s Bloodies! This one was made very strong with a lot of horseradish. Not for the faint at heart or horseradish hater!
Sunday afternoon was spent watching even more Buffy and simmering the chicken bones down into broth. I can’t really thinking of a more satisfying task. You don’t really even have to do anything, except watch the heat and skim off the fat if you so please. My broth came out a little fatty for my taste, but I’ll be able to skim that off when I want to use the broth. The most satisfying part is that I now have 4 tupperware containers of chicken broth in my freezer, just ready to be thawed and used in any number of soups, pasta sauces, vegetable dishes, and even quinoa to give it a little extra flavor. Nothing like setting food by for later use.
My favorite culinary happening of the weekend actually took place on Monday, which was an extension of the weekend anyway because I stayed home from work to nurse a cold. I made spaghetti with rosemary and butter sauce. Rosemary. Butter. The slightest eseence of garlic. Pasta. Combine all of that in a warm, Parmesan covered bowl of comfort, Italian style. It was so delicious. It wasn’t at all how I envisioned it—instead of being very buttery or very rosemary ridden, the tastes all blended together and became creamy with the addition of the Parmesan cheese. I think I’ll be making more tonight—it was delicious.