You know its bad, really bad, when you hear your child singing in the other room:
(To the tune of "Mary had a little lamb")
Yucky dinner yuck yuck yuck, yuck yuck yuck, yuck yuck yuck, yucky dinner yuck yuck yuck, yucky dinner is yuck yuck..
It was supposed to be a fragrant, herby, chicken pot pie. I had made it many times before. This time I had to improvise as I was trying to make use of what was on hand. You see I had roasted a chicken last night, using a recommendation (I shall not name names so as to protect the innocent) from a friend whose cooking I have never tasted. The chicken, in and of itself was no prize but I thought I could surely do something with the leftovers.
Perhaps the chicken simply wasn't meant to be. So many things went awry and what emerged from the oven was not at all what I had in mind. It might have helped if I had mixed the dry ingredients, instead I added wet to dry, without incorporating the salt or baking powder. I also used coarse cornmeal and then undercooked the whole thing, even though I kept it in the oven far longer than the recipe had indicated.
Served along with some severely undercooked acorn squash, the dinner evoked pained looks all around. We all ate some of it, for what else could we have done? Order Chinese?
And so I am left with half of this chicken pot pie with cornmeal crust, wondering if a night in the fridge will help its case and if I could manage to serve it to my friend D. for lunch tomorrow. Maybe if I serve it with some cheesecake brownies I plan make, she won't notice the main course at all.