‘Cuz That’s How I Roll

I was reading a post on the blogosphere about some woman with washboard abs and three small children and how some women either attempted to have her banned or succeeded in having her and her washboard abs pics banned from Facebook on the grounds that they made other women feel bad about themselves.

Whatever.

When I was young, it took relatively little effort for me to have low bodyfat and washboard abs.  After I reached my 40s, I was struggling. I had to do a LOT of exercise in order to stay even.  When I hit my mid 50s, I would have to exercise for hours every day and eat lettuce leaves and little else to be thin enough to have a waistline, let alone washboard abs,  because the old fat cells are screaming “You could be left on an ice floe any day now!  Eat MORE!  You need to store up food NOW!”  I tell my fat cells to chill because bitch, we in Florida and the only ice is in my DRINK, but do they listen? No.

So that is why, instead of agonizing over my waistline and fat content of same,  I was in the kitchen making my version of chicken piccatta tonight.

I put salted water on to heat in my smallest stock pot.  I took out a package of boneless chicken breasts. I bludgeoned them mercilessly with a marble rolling pin until they were sufficiently thin, dumped some gluten-free flour into a bowl, poured in garlic and salt until it smelled right, dredged the skinny but much wider chicken breasts through the flour, and quickly browned them in a pan of sizzling Spanish olive oil.  After removing the chicken breasts to a platter, I threw a pound of fresh sliced mushrooms and a chopped onion into the pan, and tossed in a half stick of butter. There was supposed to be white wine dumped into the pan but noooooooo.  My white wine was all gone.  All I had left was a little Chilean red.  What the heck.  I dumped some of that in.  It’s not like the chicken was going to complain about me using the wrong color wine.

In the meantime, the water for the (gluten free) spaghetti was boiling, so I put the spaghetti on to cook.  The mushrooms and onions were good, so I added a can of chicken stock, a jar of artichoke hearts, the chicken breasts, and took out the Meyer lemons.

About that time, SwampMan asked “What are you cooking?”

“Chicken piccatta.”

“Does that have lemons in it?”

“Yes, it does!”

“I hate lemons.  Leave those out.”

*sigh*  I just added the juice and lemon bits of ONE lemon instead of three.  Dang.  Then I covered the pot so it could simmer for 20 minutes.

When the GF spaghetti was done, I drained the spaghetti and returned the pot to the burner, adding a dash of cream and 4 tablespoons of butter to the pot to melt. I reached into the fridge for my package of parmesan cheese only to pull out a mostly empty bag.  Well, crap.  I tossed that into the spaghetti, then found a baby swiss cheese that I grated into the pot, stirring everything well.  I grabbed a clean fork and stabbed a forkful for a taste test.  Yum!  I added just a little more salt, then put little mounds of spaghetti with cheese on our plates.  I added capers to the chicken piccatta, then spooned the chicken breasts, mushrooms, onions, artichoke hearts, capers and sauce on top of the spaghetti.

That could be why I do not have washboard abs and do not care.

Three weeks from tomorrow, SwampMan will be in the hospital getting his worst knee replaced.  If SwampMan becomes mobile and we start hiking and camping and bicycling again, I may just start working toward achieving washboard abs again….okay, maybe not.

 

 

 

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