el pollo loco

Normally, I dislike chicken. Really, really, really dislike it. In fact, I typically compare food I find extremely bland to chicken.

But during the past week or so, I've been experiencing these intense cravings for meat. (So bizarre -- usually I lust after bean burritos or French fries or Indian food, never meat. Maybe it's all the running?) And I find myself fantasizing about salami and pulled pork and bratwurst and bacon and ...

Chicken.

I know, right? Maybe I am losing my mind. But last week I went out of my way to buy ground chicken (and did I mention ground meat usually sicks me out?) so I could make chicken and lettuce cups. And they were damn good! Which inspired me to go back to the butcher again yesterday for some organic chicken breast.

Which I dipped in buttermilk; rolled in flour, panko, Parmesan and thyme; and put in the oven.

It was a valiant attempt, but unfortunately, I put a little too much flour on, so the outer layer never actually browned the way it was supposed to. This resulted in my leaving the chicken in the oven for too long, and then I got frustrated and put the whole thing in the frying pan just to get the flour browned.

The result? Overcooked chicken. Which reminded me once more why I usually hate chicken and never eat it or attempt to make it.

Still, I guess trying is better than nothing. And it wasn't inedible. (I actually shared some of it with the cats, and they approved wholeheartedly.) And it looked sort of nice on the plate next to the fabulous tomato salad I put together with tomatoes from our employee garden at work. (Nothing quite as wonderful as vine-ripened tomatoes!)

retreat

Went for a run near Laura's house after work today. She lives in a little cottage that's tucked away in a vineyard. It's unbelievably quiet there -- no sound at all except the birds and lizards scurrying around. And the house -- or should I say mansion, since the place is huge -- next door is empty. I think it's a vacation rental or some rich person's playhouse. Whatever the case, it reminds me a little of Grey Gardens. It's so isolated and lonely. I love it.

Sometimes I fantasize about leaving it all and going somewhere that is silent, where it will be just us and the cats and maybe a room full of books and a garden full of round, ripe tomatoes.

never say never

Tonight I had an awesome meal made with two ingredients I normally dislike: Chicken and iceberg lettuce.

that time of year

Harvest started a few weeks ago. It's a weird year -- major frost this spring all over California, not much rain, then a heatwave at the end of August, followed by overcast days and fog. Which means a small crop that came in fast in the beginning, but has since slowed down with the cooler weather.

It also means he is working six days a week. And they've put him in charge of the night crew, so these are long, late days.

So I rent all the DVDs that he wouldn't want to watch. (Like the third season of "Grey's Anatomy," which really isn't all that great but I still watch it anyway.) And I take a very long time washing my face and use all the products I usually forget I even own. And I eat a lot of tomatoes and cottage cheese for dinner. And spend plenty of time at the gym or at happy hour with the girls.

sometimes it feels like this

I promise I will write more soon.