How You Doing?

It's interesting, and very kind, that people constantly inquire after your welfare once you have lost a partner. The professionals whom you have to contact about all the unpaid bills and the other legal miseries that inevitably come bobbing along in the wake of death pretty much universally use the phrase, "I'm sorry for your loss." This comes either early or late in process of taking care of business. My response is usually, "Thank you, so am I." It's sincere, but somewhat distancing. A statement of fact, it only requires a quick response.

People who know you more informally, however, take it farther. They ask, "How you doing?". This is a response that triggers thought, because it more or less implies that they're aware that you're going through a difficult adjustment period, and it's definitely more supportive in its intent. It's more nuanced than "How are you?", and less insouciant than, say, "How's everything going?" Its implied focus is on you and your particular feelings and situation.

But "How (are) you doing?" is difficult to answer, because sometimes you just want to stop for a minute and say, "Well, I'm glad you asked. I'm having a lot of trouble figuring out exactly what's going on with our bank accounts." Or maybe it's more like, "My God, I didn't know chicken got so dry and tough if you left it in the oven too long." But does anyone really want to have you do data mining like that? In the computer world, we call that a core dump. Probably it's best to keep it brief, honest, and appreciative in tone.

"How (are) you doing?" can be pretty open-ended like that. It's nice. It presents one of those rare opportunities that if you feel like elaborating, you may, but you don't have to. Nobody has a particular agenda, other than to show an interest, and offer an opportunity.

So if you happen to see me, and happen to say "How ya doin'", don't be surprised if sometimes I say, "Just fine, thanks", but other times, "Well, the cat threw up on my kitchen chair, and a raccoon chewed a hole in the swing seat, and I don't think I like the way I cook, but generally, not so bad, thanks." After all, you asked for it. And thank you for asking.

The Dumb Cluck in the Kitchen

I understand that in some parts of this country, especially in the south, there is a preference for meats of various kinds, blackened. This normally involves various spices, such as paprika, salt, cayenne, cumin, thyme, white pepper, and onion powder. Searing the chicken breast, for example, after oiling it and rubbing it with these condiments produces the desired blackening, and subsequent baking turns it into something special.

It is with great pleasure that I announce via this blog entry that I have found a much simpler way, involving no additional expense for condiments of any kind. Based on my extensive kitchen experience, this is how I produced it. One caveat: this recipe requires that you own a dog or cats, or maybe a ferret. Or a skunk.

1. Purchase a chicken. Without it, this recipe fails.

2. Unpack it and lose the giblets. I hate giblets.

3. Put it on a roasting rack (the vertical kind makes it self-basting).

4. Ask someone whose vision is good enough to read the oven temperature indicator to turn it on to 450 for you. (Thank you, A.)

4. Place it in the oven on the bottom rack. This assumes you have removed the top rack before the oven started to heat up.

5. Set the timer for about an hour and a half, if you like well-done chicken.

6. When the timer goes off, silence it and remove the beautiful, brown chicken, off whose bones the meat will be falling.

7. Turn off the oven.

8. Because your pets will materialize on cue when they hear you open the oven door, you cannot leave the bird on the kitchen counter. Instead, when you have carved off what you want to eat, return the bird, on the platter, to the oven, and securely close the door.

9. Set the table, throw together some accompaniments, and have dinner.

10. After dinner, you may remember that the oven was fairly dirty. Turn it on to self clean.

11. Busy yourself with other activities for about 20 minutes. By that time, the smell of well-done chicken should be permeating even the fabric of your curtains.

12. If you can see into the kitchen, run and cancel the self-clean cycle. If you can't, feel your way until you burn your fingers on something hot. It will be the stove. Cancel the self-clean cycle.

13. Tug at the oven door until you realize that the unreadable little red digital bar on the control panel is saying "LOCKED".

14. Busy yourself with other activities for about 40 minutes. By that time, the oven should have cooled enough to unlock the door.

15. Carefully, and with several pot holders or pairs of oven mitts, remove the platter and bird, and place on a non-combustible surface. Be careful not to set it down hard, as all the meat will fall off, except for the burnt parts which will stick to the bones like Velcro(tm).

16. If you prefer, transfer the chicken to a new plate and scrub the platter with any strong abrasive. The burnt-in lines on the bottom where the platter sat on the rack provides a pattern unique in the industry. Your dinner guests will be fascinated by the permanent black spots and the Rorschach smear where the chicken rested on the platter.

Voila. Blackened, Ready-To-Discard Chicken. This recipe will undoubtedly work with a wide variety of dishes, although blackening times may vary. Be sure to include cooling time, as the entree cannot be removed before the oven latch releases. And don't forget to clean your oven afterwards.