3: always try out a recipe before you feed it to someone else.

Today was the first day I had invited my significant other over for dinner. I was pretty nervous, so I prepared a lot for today. I already had an idea in mind for what I wanted to cook, so I pored over the internet for chicken and white wine sauces that would pair nicely with some pasta and a salad. Fancy, yet still easy to cook and even easier to make sure all the dishes come out at the right time. Here’s the recipe I found for those who are curious about what I eat (probably not a lot of people other than my parents. They think I might waste away if they don’t feed me.): http://tpox-proceedwithcaution.blogspot.com/2010/04/chicken-french-with-white-wine-lemon.html

But the thing I learned today wasn’t just how to make this delicious dish. It was that no matter how simple I thought the dish was, I needed to practice how to make it. I’m so glad I did, because first of all, I didn’t realize I didn’t have a corkscrew until I tried to open my wine. A jaunt to the grocery store to get that and some other much needed groceries fixed that situation.

Anyway, the first time I tried this recipe it came out… OK. I found it was a little too fruity for me, and the consistency was strange. I can personally attest that this is NOT due to the recipe. I had to make this dish Kosher, so I was trying to learn how to thicken it without butter. And I was struggling with ratios and measurements for the lemon juice I was using. The instructions said the juice of 1 ½ lemons, which I thought would total up to about a third of a cup of juice. Needless to say, it was WAY too much. A few different attempts with the sauce gave me a rough estimate of 1 teaspoon lemon juice for every half cup of wine, and even then that might be a little strong.

Another thing was that the recipe told me to brown my chicken for seven minutes on a medium high heat. I’m just getting used to my range top, so I don’t know how high medium high is. I managed not to burn my kitchen down, but I definitely didn’t keep each side of the chicken breast on the heat for seven minutes. More like four each and even that made it look a little charred. It was still cooked all the way through and wonderfully juicy, so I have to remember this method for cooking chicken when I need a quick dinner.

The first attempt was… edible. I certainly ate it, as I was not going to let a chicken breast and half cup of wine go to waste. But way more valuable was, to put it politely, learning to get my shit together. I avoided so many disasters just by trying this recipe out once. Imagine inviting my good friend over and realizing we couldn’t eat because I was missing a bottle opener. I would be mortified; scrambling around my apartment trying to find something to pry it open or be forced to take a cold trek to the grocery store. Once the wine was open, my significant other would probably raise an eyebrow at the blackened breading on the chicken. I could just imagine the wince as they tentatively taste the way too sour sauce. A romantic dinner ruined because I thought I could perfect a recipe on the first try.

I don’t idly invite people over for food. I learned growing up that meal time was important, and good food is what brought us all to the table. We would talk and laugh, share our triumphs and setbacks of the day, and of course relax and stuff our faces. When I cook I want to evoke the same kind of atmosphere. I want to show I know what that person likes and that I care about our relationship. When I cook for someone, it means I want them to be happy, and that means making a meal that’s worthy enough for them. Or at least a meal that doesn’t taste like gummy lemon juice.