Try, try again.

So, what’s for dinner after a hard day of househunting? Apparently with one challenge behind me, I felt another one was in the offing. I had stuck a chicken breast in the fridge to thaw a day or so ago.

Now, for most people ‘a chicken breast’ doesn’t spawn Marsellus Wallace-level fright. Me? Oi, vey. I do bad, bad things to chicken.

This chicken? Not so much. I soaked it in faux buttermilk (milk with a splash of vinegar), onion, garlic, salt, and pepper. After the milk bath, it got dried off a bit, then rubbed with about a teaspoon of mayo (plain yogurt would also work) that had been blended with a little parmesean cheese, and some garlic salt and onion powder. Once it had it’s greasy mayo coat, it got rolled into some panko and put on a pan sprayed liberally with cooking spray. 425. 15-20 minutes.

Because I always overcook, and because the breast was thin, I went with 15. It wasn’t juicy perfection (probably because though I did stop cooking it, I did jab it with a meat thermometer once, thus letting juices escape), but it was passable. Which is–trust me on this–a vast improvement.

Because I was prepared to deal with chicken jerky, I had prepped some tiny french rolls with a bit of leftover italian sausage spaghetti sauce and some mozzarella. Having actual delicious chicken made it all the better.

On the side are some sweet potato chips–like C’s except baked in the oven. (I really hate to fry.) This was a second experimental batch to see if they crisped better at a higher temp. The answer is no–they blacken. Stick to 350 or lower for half-hour or so.

Oh, and I found a house.

Yeah, I suppose that leading with the house might have been a bit more exciting than the basic chicken dish but, hey, your priorities are not my priorities, obviously.

This is the backyard. It’s sort of down the hill behind the house, a tiny (and at this moment mostly stagnant with the lack of rain) creek. It’s overgrown, and too steep for traversing in the current condition, but it’s a fairly small portion of the half acre total.

One of the reasons it’s a picture of the backyard is simply that a backyard is becoming a very rare commodity around here. I can’t count the number of perfectly gorgeous houses that were situated on tiny, flat, boring lots ringed by looming neighbors. Since when did a view from your kitchen window directly into your neighbors constitute a good thing?

But this? Ahhh, oasis. As S discovered this morning, there’s horseshoe posts out by the garden boxes for playin’. Garden boxes with irrigation hoses for plantin’… no hydrangea, but plenty of established trees (including a huge magnolia and a stand of tall privacy spruce). There’s a big deck with a gas hookup for a grill. Crappy myrtles. Azaleas.

Enough space for a party (though we’re already taking bets on who goes over the edge and into the creek), and enough distance for it to be a quiet happy place.

Now, inside. The one thing I’m giving a bit on here is kitchen space. Though what I’m giving up in space, I’m hoping to get back in amenities. Corian countertop with smooth-seam sink. Gas stove. Enormous refrigerator that conveys. (Though it is beige. I’m SO not fond of beige. Do they make slipcovers for refrigerators?)

The floor in the kitchen is tile, but the adjoining dining room is carpeted. The whole house (save for the foyer, with hardwood) is the same pretty crummy carpet. That is going to have to go. How soon? I don’t know. We shall see how long I can stand the neutrality of it all. And how long I have to save up for the floor-covering of my choice. *My* choice. Fucking A.

For some reason, I only took picture of the guest bedrooms and not the master. They are small, but have nice views. And great closets. The one in the middle will be the home office, I think. It is the smallest and the coolest because it is heavily shaded.

The master is a great size, with a great view. Trees, woods, plants. Also a great view of the two walk-in closets. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with two, honestly. But I’m sure I will find something. Perhaps a pantry, since I realized about a half-hour ago that the kitchen doesn’t actually have one. Hm.

Something beyond my wildest dreams: a 2-car garage that already has the beginnings of a workshop. Shelving, cabinets, a workbench… a place for the holidays and general building stuff to happen. A place to store dirty stuff like lumber and tool boxes and drill bits and crazy garden chemicals. That isn’t exposed to the elements. I’m going to need a very tall ladder.

This is crazy right? It can’t possibly work out. There are just too many things that are just right. It has to be the money pit, and I’ll wake up one day with my whole house slid down the hill and resting on its side in a pile of puddled filth.

Right? Right?

Ok, before my head explodes, I’ll just leave you with some damned cute cuteness. This is from TiVo’s last visit, a month or so ago. She is coming back for a return engagement starting today. Wee!

2 responses to “Try, try again.”

  1. Robust McManlyPants Says:

    Mmmmmmm… gas stove. It’s so much better for cooking.

    Congratulations!

    The fear that the house will slide off into another dimension, irretrievably gone, will fade. Mostly. It doesn’t go away entirely, though. Heh.

  2. crash Says:

    Yea I still fear from time to time that our house will have some major catasophe. But it totally makes up in the custome structured wiring, the custom paint..etc..

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