i'll show you where the white fishes swim at the bottom of the sea
My dinner tonight is the bittiest game hen I have ever seen in my life. I feel like I should be cooking it like a squab. (Instead, I have stuffed it, buttered it, seasoned it, and put it in the oven to roast. I could not, in fact, find a reasonable place to stick my instant-read thermometer. I mean, it's just me, and so I buy little ones on purpose, but I feel like a babykiller.)
I am amused to note that the stuffing consists of:
One (1) shallot. And not the whole shallot. Just one of the lobes. One (1) slice of lemon (remember the lemons?) some lemon grass.
In half an hour, I start garlic ginger brocolli for the side dish. I'd invite you to come over, but the squab hen is too small to share.
In other news, I am replete in a fine Australian screwtop red, and really accomplished a lot today.
I'm going to have to start writing that novella soon, aten't I?