Wednesday, March 7, 2012

TV Dinners: Kelsey Nixon's Chicken Cacciatore

Internet, I have a confession to make. I didn't want to like the squeaky-clean, annoyingly chipper blonde host of The Cooking Channel's "Kelsey's Essentials." She's too perky for my taste. And too sparkly. And too perfectly young. And all know-it-all about telling me the essentials of my kitchen.

But internet, I can admit when I'm wrong. Dead wrong. 

I set out to make Kelsey's Chicken Cattiatore, scoffing when I saw the episode in my DVR. What could blondey know about true Italian food?

I love me some cattiatore. It's good ol' simple Italian rustic goodness. I've literally consumed gallons of said goodness in my life, but I've never attempted to make it myself. Internet, I also confess that I lack patience. Anything worth simmering in a Dutch oven requires a lot of waiting, and a lot of patience. Somehow Kelsey's "essential" version claimed to take only 95 minutes. Silly, Kelsey. You can't rush such goodness! Braising takes time. Dutch oven goodness takes time. *This is where my husband would make a Dutch oven joke. I'm pretty sure the only reason he bought me one was so that he could make these jokes whenever I use it.* Getting simple rustic flavors to truly reach their full flavor potential means giving them the respect, and time, they deserve. I take this shit seriously. *That's where The Hubs would say "I take Dutch ovens seriously" and probably fart.* I started preparing myself for another lackluster TV Dinner, already grumbling about the lack of any real flavor from these TV recipes and apologizing to you in the blog I was writing in my head...


I gathered up the ingredients. Simple ones. With wine. Yes. I opened the wine immediately. So it could, you know, breathe. In my mouth.


I salted and peppered chicken thighs before dredging them in flour and browning. The online recipe doesn't tell you to, but you should always pat your chicken dry before doing this. Use paper towels and blot, blot, blot. Dry chicken = crispy golden crust. Trust this. The recipe also calls for a whole chicken. I was lazy and the thighs were on sale. Trust in improvisation, too.


I browned a few pieces at a time to avoid overcrowding. While you wait for your little chickens to get all goldy browny, you may start to look at the clock and think to yourself, "Huh. Hour and a half? Riiiiiiggght." Just me? Fair enough. But I was highly doubting this dinner would really only take 95 minutes to make. So I passed the time by letting some more wine breathe. In my mouth.


See? Perfectly golden brown. Power of the paper towel pat down.

I took the thighs out of the pot to rest and started adding all kinds of happiness in my beloved Le Creuset. Even though it does require so much of that patience I've confessed to not having, I really do love any excuse to use it. It's a good calming exercise for my mental state. And my mouth.


Internet, I have another confession to make. I wasn't exactly sure what cremini mushrooms were. At the market, I guessed and got the little white ones. When I got home I asked the mighty Google and discovered I was wrong. Oh well. I will also confess that I forgot to add them until the last second. Improvisation, folks.


I added the happy golden chickens back into the pot to simmer and set my timer for 40 minutes. When it went off, I glanced at the the clock. And then my picked my jaw up from the floor. GUYS. It ACTUALLY TOOK 95 MINUTES. Exactly. Whoa.

Also, it looked like this:


And tasted like this:



You know, if that kind of heaven were a flavor. Damn. That would taste good. Like this cattiatore.

Kelsey Nixon just made me compare chicken to Ryan Gosling. It's that good, people.

As The Hubs stuffed his mouth, I told him "It's a TV Dinner ya know."

Hubs: Oh yeah? It fucking rules. *shoved more bread and sauce in his face*

Me: Yeah. You have Kelsey Nixon to thank for this.

Hubs: Well, I'd like throw her on this table and make a woman out of her to thank her for this.

Yup. It's that good.


Lady B’s Final Say So:

  • Ease Factor: 5 out of 5 noms (And clean-up was wicked easy, too!)
  • Taste Test: 5 out of 5 noms
  • Truth in Advertising: 5 out of 5 noms
  • The Hubs’  Vote: "Possibly 5. But I'm also a little drunk."
  • Yeah, but is it pretty?: 4 out of 5 noms. Served with crusty bread, it's nothing fancy looking. But it's so pretty in your mouth.
  • Overall: Kelsey, will you marry us?



Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Glam or Gaudy?

So, I'm moving. I may have mentioned it. I may have also mentioned that I'm a teensy bit scared of the big change.

But my Hubs is a freaking knight in shining moving armor. Moving armor? That doesn't even make sense. You get the gist, right? Like my adorably handsome bearded husband all made up in an armor suit made of moving and packing supplies? I guess that really wouldn't be decent armor though. You could just tear that to shreds if you were a moving supply dragon or something. Or could you? Cuz then you'd be made of the same stuff as the armor, which we've already established isn't very armor-y. Huh. Anyway.

My Hubs. He's amazing. He knows exactly how to make scary changes magically transform into wonderfully exciting changes with just a few simple words:

"How about we just sell all the living room furniture and start over with brand new stuff?"

What the WHAAAAA?!?!?

Yeah. Knight in moving armor. For reals.

Then he did one even better. He threw me in the car and ignored my whiny complaints about driving sooooo far as we made our to almost-Culver City. "I swear you're gonna like it," he promised. I pouted and whined some more. Cuz I'm awesome like that.

And then we arrived. And ohmyfuckinggodareyoufuckingkiddingme what is this magical place?!!


One hundred fifty THOUSAND square feet of sheer furniture heaven. Heaven, I tell you!!! Sure, most of the items in this interior design mecca are well out of our budget. But they have deals, people! And an outlet space! And just plain inspiration for DAYS!

It's rare when The Hubs gets into shopping of any kind. Ask him to go to the grocery store and it's like you've asked him to drop his pants and cough. But whenever we move he gets oddly excited about new furniture. And then surprises me with some secret magic furniture store juju. Reason #76492 why I adore him. And then dragged him around for 4 hours until we both couldn't look at another damn sofa.

Which brings me to this. We both adore the looks of hotels like The Viceroy and The Riviera in Palm Springs. Yes, we're also kind of obsessed with Palm Springs getaways. Whatevs. So we love the look. Kind of Hollywood Regency meets Mid-Century Modern meets just plain cool. But we don't want to look like we're living in Liberace's place. Okay, The Hubs doesn't anyway. I could totally rock that.

After our trip to what we now can't stop calling "HR Pufnstuf" I came home and ran to the laptop, happily researching budget-friendly options for our new Larchmont Loveshack.

And I discovered Polyvore. Are you on this, yet? Think Pinterest but you can make your own little bulletin inspiration board thingys. And I made THIS:
hollywood regency dream living room


Interwebs, I ask you: Is it just the right amount of glam? Or too gaudy? Be honest. I love it. I adore it. I want it. But I don't want to wake up three months from now feeling like old Hollywood threw up on my living room, ya know?

Glam? Gaudy? Just plain awful? Got a better idea? Wanna just go to HD Buttercup with me and drool on everything?

Yay!





Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Larchmont by Lady B

Lady B is leaving the Valley.

Yeah. I'll let that sink in for a minute. Oh wait, except it really hasn't for me yet. Cah-razy, I tell ya.

But 'tis true. The Hubs and I are packing up the Mammoth Manor and moving over the hill. Something I thought I'd never, ever ever do. But I'm doing it. And I'm over the moon excited. And just a teensy bit scared. But mostly I'm just counting the days till all of this kinda awesomeness is literally steps from our front door:



Check out REISGroup.org for the story on our neighboring building


The Hollywood Forever Cemetery. (David McNew/Getty Images)
Lady B, Miss Pacman, and Jack. The local Barcade brings friends together.

We don't move for another 5 weeks. Five long, excruciating weeks. It's like waiting for Christmas morning and the first day of the school. Which would actually really suck if those ever happened on the same day but whatevs. You get it.

Larchmont, HO!