I’ve been thinking a lot about chicken tetrazzini. That used to be one of my Mom’s special dinners. In the 50s-60s, chicken tetrazzini was the Betty Crocker epitome of elegance a la casserole, ranking high along side banana pudding with vanilla wafers and sweet potatoes with tiny mashmallows. Yeah. Post war abundance that lead to, I’m sure, the present fattening of America; felled by casserole mania and the craving for large, over rich portions of whatever. Still, chicken tetrazzini was good!
Feeling fairly “blaise” this Sunday with Thierry and M. Parret coming to lunch, I just followed my instincts and cooked in a non-stressful, can’t be bothered way with fairly aggressive suggestions from my refrigerator. The broccoli seemed to be particularly needy, so that was definitely happening. Of course, chicken thighs with salt, pepper, garlic powder, flour and baked in butter goes with everything. Ask anybody.
I came nowhere…
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