My house doesn't have an oven. Actually, that's not quite true. I have a very spendy Thermador double oven, only I can't use it. It has no oven racks and nobody can find any to fit. I know that sounds impossible, but it's true. I've lived here for a year and a half and still no oven. It is really and truly the only thing I can think of about this place that I don't love. My house is practically perfect in every way. Only good thing for me that my Auntie Kaye loves me and for my Birthday or Christmas or some such winter holiday last year she gave me the money to buy a convection oven. (On a very important side note my afore mentioned birthday is this Sunday, November 22, beginnig at 4:20 a.m. Not that I expect gifts and/or doting on, on that day. I'm just sayin'.) So, when Auntie gave me the money I did a lot of research and got the perfect one for me. It's much bigger than any other one I could find on the market. It bakes, convections, and rotisseries. It's actually perfect and I've not missed my oven one bit except if I want to cook something in a 9x13 pan. Which again, I usually don't because I only cook for me and I don't need a 9x13 pan of anything, except for maybe brownies or cake or cream cheese chicken. One of my favorite things to cook in my oven is rotisserie chicken. I'd been hankering for one, so last night I made one. It's turned out to be a fun activity for Hank:
He sat and watched that Chicken rotate forever. If I were a cat, I'd think I'd want to keep my eye on a moving chicken too just incase it decided to rotate into my mouth. However, after a while he got tired:
Note that he didn't quit watching, he just decided that he could watch it just as carefully while lying down. He's pretty much my favorite.
Plus, also, since this is a story about chicken, I should probably show you how scrum-diddly-umptious it turned out:
3 comments:
That Hank, he knows how to lie down on the job and still be efficient.
My darling daughter and I were the first ones to give you a birthday gift. We must love you the most even though you break up with me every other blog post.
It's true, we must love you best. Your birthday shoes are practially worn out already. You should repent and stop breaking up with us.
Ps when are you coming over?
I forgot. That chicken looks wonderful.
I'm just sayin'
And you are a genius cooker lady. I must be a gift.
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