Skip to main content

Analog Recipes for the Digital World: Mustard Glazed Chicken Breast with "Gray"vy

Okay so the gravy is gray, not pretty but pretty delicious. And the "glaze" isn't really so much a classical glaze so foodies be damned Gordon Ramsay can shove it.



So i use pre-sliced "assorted gourmet" mushrooms which is mostly just crimini's with a few shitakes and chanterelles thrown in. an interesting tweak would be to use mushroom stock instead of chicken stock here btw. I toss a little stock in the pan just to keep it all juicy and hydrated during it's bikrham phase.


So by the was H&S means herbs and spices, S&P means salt & pepper. Probably unnescessary to explain but...

also i add a bit of the pan juices to the mustard before i brush it on the breasts. and i only broil for a minute or 2 at most just to make the glaze brown and kind of crispy...kind of ...i can imagine it being crispy, though it isn't really. still yummy though.



so the mushrooms definitely make the blended mixture into an unpleasant color, but oh so yummy. I like to eat over the CFL Mashup and a side of steamed broccoli with sea salt.

Next stop, Nomville, Aaaaaaaallll Aboard!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Casey Jones

Time is weird. Life just kind of marches on at strange intervals, bits of you that you'd like to keep get left in the dust, but the parts you don't want seem to latch onto you like train cars, trailing behind you, moving in your same direction, each successive car making you less and less responsive to changes in direction and requiring more and more fire and steam to move forward. What is time's ultimate destination? When are you experiencing and not just going toward or away from experience? How can you tell? When you filter your life through the vagueries of time it becomes a surrealist nightmare, An Andalusian Dog waiting to slice your eyeball with a straight razor. Despite all our attempts to master time we cannot. The best we can hope for is a constant revisitation of divide and not conquer, first we name seasons, then we name months, then weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds. Some days we make special because of lunar occurences or deaths of important people. Nev

Virgin Birth

I was terribly excited when i was chosen to play Santa in my third grade christmas paegent. To my way of thinking Santa is the star of any third grade christmas paegent and even though i wasn't the one solving the mystery in our little play (because for some reason it required a mystery)how could i not be central? It was Santa, it was Christmas, clearly this role required someone with my gravitas, my je ne c'est quoi, my star power. I was glad the world had finally taken notice. Delivering this news to my family was something i really couldn't wait to do. My family: my mother and I. That was it. A dead father, a divorced step father had left it just the two of us, binary stars trapped in each others gravity. Occasionally, my mothers gravity being what it was, others were drawn into our orbits. When i was finally discovered, that orbit held a man who my mother was with for quite some time, he wasn't awful, but he wasn't great either. He was the first of two men w

Beauty and the beast named Gary.

"Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart." ~Kahlil Gibran I'm sitting across from, quite literally, one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. She is turned toward me, her legs crossed on a fake wicker divan, a glass of chardonay grasped by her delicate fingers. The moon, almost full, floats behind her in a swirling aurora of carnival colors cast by the lights of strip mall signs and cars parking and un-parking. The breeze is gently moving her hair at the fronteirs of her face. I'm looking at her from across the top of my pinot noir, and i am quite convinced that at that moment, and not for the reasons you may think, there is no man alive more lucky than me. There is a man talking on his phone, he thinks i don't see him. He's staring at us while he talks. She's talking at the moment, i turn to glance at him, he looks away quickly. I know precisely what he's thinking. I know because the signs are unmistakeable. He has n