Chef Carol Cooks

Liam looking at dinner by Chef Carol

"The best way to execute French cooking is to get good and loaded

wine for chicken whacking

and whack the hell out of a chicken.

Whacked chicken

Bon Appétit."
(attributed to Julia Child)

We saw the Neelys at the Food Network Festival. I wrote about it a few blogs back. I was with Peridot Pal. I stated that day that I felt inspired to enter the kitchen and try to cook a meal with the verve of the Neelys.These two were having such fun. It is possible I was high from the peanut oil vapors in the arena as well as the electricity shooting from their personalities. I remember dreaming that maybe I could even have a show someday. The curse of a Leo, always looking for fame.

Then to add to my fantasy, I saw a segment on "The View" with Sherri Shepherd and Food Network "Chopped" judge, Marc Murphy. They were preparing and roasting a chicken . That was the one for me. If Sherri could chop, stuff and cook a chicken with  Chef Marc MurphyI could do it, after all I had Chef Paul.

http://theview.abc.go.com/blog/marc-murphys-roast-chicken

Paul is a cook and a chef. He cooks during the week and is a chef on Saturday. Rachael Ray has often described herself as a cook, not a chef.

from Merriam Webster Online

cook-a person who prepares food for eating

chef- a skilled cook who manages the kitchen

I had illusions/delusions of proceeding directly to the Chef position. It was Saturday night, October 30.

To prepare this roast chicken, my first job was to find and print out Marc/Sherri's recipe.
I googled it and there it was. Googling is a beautiful thing.
Since I had seen it done on "The View" I knew what I was getting into.

Then we had to make a list. Chef Paul did that. Hey, he offered. He also did the shopping.
I was watching the "House Hunters" on HGTV, and doing the laundry, so not yet ready to enter "The Next Iron Chef" mode.

Paul returned with the ingredients and I set them up, sort of.

The next step is chopping. Paul offered to chop. This fit in with my plan of sipping wine and reading the NY Times Real Estate section with a new "Property Virgins" episode.

I really think Chef Paul was hoping I would never appear in "his" kitchen. All the prep work done, I got the call to fix the bird. For the first time I would join Chef Paul, we would be the Neelys, or Marc and Sherri.

I did not want to go. I suddenly realized watching others cook, chop, baste, stuff, taste, plate -is really the way I want it. However, I am trapped. I had announced I was interested. I had printed out the recipe. I had made the commitment.

It was at this point that Liam began pacing. Moving from room to room. At one point he curled into a ball

Liam hiding

Liam behind Chef Paul

Who is that in the kitchen?

at another hid behind Daddy Paul.    He stared into the kitchen. He had never seen Mommy Carol in the kitchen in such an involved way. All of us were a little out of whack.

But there I was with this uncooked bird. I knew that the trick was first pulling out a little plastic package inside the cavity-an extra gift of chicken parts that I did not need. In its place,  I was ready to put in a lemon, garlic and an onion and under its skin, some butter. I held the bird by its legs, pushed the lemon in.  Good.  Then the onion.  The lemon popped out.   Put the garlic in. They all took turns popping out. Each was wet and slimy. They were not staying put. I remember that there was an option of trussing the chicken-that would be tying the legs together. Too gruesome. Let everything pop out if it must.

Next step was to carefully place the slippery bird on top of the cut veggies in the roasting pan; then slide it in the oven.   As bird cooked , we were to eat our salads.  Next follows a pic of the salad.

blackberry, wine, salad

I think I helped with its prep. The photo has my blackberry charging and my wine so I must have been involved. Paul remembers my only contribution to be that of sprinkling bleu cheese on the salad.

the chicken had the look of a cooked chicken.

cooked bird

It was never really done. Every time we looked there was still some redness somewhere. Back in the oven. Again and again.

bloody chicken back in the oven

Paul assured me that poultry is contrary like that. And so are ovens.
"Who wants to eat bloody chicken?"  I countered- in my best British accent

I did not wait to be "Chopped" as they do on The Food Network.
Oh no.
I declared my chef days over and ripped off the non bloody parts, stuck them in the mircowave. Microwaves are blood suckers.

I am not a cook, not a chef. Chef Carol is done with the competing with the Neelys/Sherri Shepherd .
I have my role in the household and it is not chef/cook/chopper.

This past Saturday Paul made one of Rachael's recipes.
Liam and I watched "House Hunters International"  I had my wine, NY Times, Blackberry.
We heard comforting familiar sounds of chopping, sizzling, and then some sweet aromatic savory smells. Liam's nose twitched in anticipation-the hound in him.

Paul announced "dinner is ready"

Liam enjoyed his only "people" snack, Paul Newman's natural popcorn, sprinkled on the floor.

Yummy popcorn, better than bloody chicken

Woof

Woof