Diggin' Up Roots, or Some Things Are Better Left Undug

I was at the library a few weeks ago at a genealogy workshop. I took some time to think about my goals for research this year, but lure of the books recently acquired by the library won me over. My eyes went right to the cookbooks, and I discovered an oldie - or at least an updated version of an old cookbook.

The I Hate To Cook Book was originally published in 1960, and was written by Peg Bracken. The updated version published in 2010 has an introduction by Bracken's daughter, Johanna. This is the book I picked up, and it was all I could do to not laugh out loud in the library. What can I say? My mom was a librarian, and I learned to hold that laughter in...at least in the library.

I had to take the book home and explore - by cooking several recipes to see what happened. The first recipe I went with was "Chicken Artichoke and Casserole"  on page 92. It's one of the things that Bracken calls a recipe to impress company.

I picked up a huge "pick of the chick" and saved the neck, gizzard, heart, and other odds and ends for stock. I sprinkled them with salt, pepper, and paprika, then browned in butter.  Then I placed the chicken into the casserole dish. I added more butter into the skillet and dropped mushrooms in to simmer. In the spirit of The I Hate To Cook Book, I bought the pre-cut, triple-washed button mushrooms, opened the package, and dumped them in.

Chicken stock, sherry, and flour completed the broth. This was my first indication that things were not going to go well.

Impressive Brown Stuff?

I scattered artichoke hearts around the browned chicken, poured the mushroom and sherry mixture over the chicken, and baked.

Baked Chicken with Artichokes Before Sauce Addition

What came out of the oven was neither pretty nor mouth-orgasmic delicious enough to make for company. Even Jasmine, the sophisticated Siamese napping on the black wool blanket backdrop, turned her back to the foul fowl dish covered with greasy mushroom sauce.

Miss Jasmine says "Duh, mew, no, mew, purr."

I ate one meal of this, then chopped the chicken up, filled plastic containers, and thrust the meat into the freezer for something in the future. I planned to forge on through the I Hate To Cook Book, and hoped I would not hate cooking after the week with the book.