Apparently it’s been a while since I roasted a chicken. When I took it out and thought I’d take a stab (har) at carving it, I couldn’t find the breast. You’d think it’d be right there, but it didn’t seem to be.
“I think the chicken’s upside down,” I said to the amassed hungry hordes. (That is, to B. The kids are not interested in chicken.)
I’ll have you know that cooking the bird upside down is actually a legitimate technique mentioned by Nigella Lawson as a surefire way to get a tender turkey, so let’s pretend I did it on purpose.
None of my Christmas cooking really worked out, since I also made a Christmas log / bouche de noel / swiss roll that took forever to bake and then totally cracked when I rolled it up even though I followed all the directions that were meant to ensure that couldn’t possibly happen. It tasted delicious, though, and since it’s a fatless, flourless sponge, it basically has no calories so it’s fine to go back for thirds.
B said, “So what’s in it then?”
“Eggs. Chocolate and eggs.”
“So it’s a chocolate mousse.”
He’s right. It’s a chocolate mousse, baked and rolled up with cream inside.
This morning I christened my new waffle iron. About two hours later I found the butter I’d melted to go in the batter still in the microwave, which explains quite well why they stuck to the thing. I look forward to doing it again tomorrow and including the butter, for improved letting-go.
In other news, I’m on Instagram now. Some very nice person I’m married to gave me a Kindle Fire for Christmas, and now I’m on Instagram and I can have fun with fancy filters and making my photos look all seventiesy. I have to practice taking selfies before I post any, though. And put on a lot of eyeliner, probably.