In order to keep my mind off of everything that is going on right now, I have been cooking a lot. I view it as therapy, and if I didn't live in NYC, I'd also be gardening like crazy -- there is something about cooking and gardening that is meditative and comforting.
Last night I made braised chicken. But not just any braised chicken. The super-special-ordered-from-the-internet-so-that-it-is-like-the-chicken-we-had-in-Paris chicken. This chicken (actually chickens -- the boy ordered 2) arrived last week in a fancy cooler and we have been waiting until I was home to cook it.
One tiny thing to note about these chickens: they are whole. And by whole I mean that the heads and feet are attached. And the insides -- they are still there too. So I basically am terrified of these chickens and can't stand to have them looking at me and have been averting my eyes every time I open the refrigerator.
But terror notwithstanding, we are not going to just throw them away because we are afraid. I will not be defeated by a chicken! So what did I do? I made the Boy deal with it. I kind of think he should anyway, since he ordered them. I put headphones on and pretended that all of the noises coming from the other room were just part of the music.
After browning them and then braising them with wine and loads of onions and herbs, they were not so scary. Worth the hassle? Definitely not. But a good cooking adventure, and for 3 hours we thought about chicken, not about cancer, or TTC, or our upcoming IVF. And so it was worth it.