MY OVEN RULES They had enough of fish, beef and egg. So today I turned to the two-winged feathered bird to prepare for my sons football brunch. My Rhyxon oven has been a faithful kitchen partner for the past 28 years. It has fulfilled all the duties it should perform without any complain nor any boycott. I had never sent it for any repair except for some wiring job. It bakes, roasts, grills and toasts. This morning was another baking assignment for Rhyxon. The chicken was cut and marinated with several sauces that came to my mind. Sliced onion, mushroom, lemon, carrot, capsicum and bunches of coriander were piled on the white meat. A colourful combination on the baking tray was evolving. Into the heated oven the bird surrendered to be roasted and baked in a variety of sauces. Once a while I turned over the meat and basqued it with the sauces, allowing it to remain moist inside but a little bit crispy on the surface. The different ingredients, colours and fusion of the sauces and vegetables were becoming one. Yet, the orgasm it caused on the tongue could dustinguish some sweetness from the onion and honey, the lemon with its sourish taste, knock-out peppery feeling on the taste bud and the natural moisture from the chicken gave the meat its tender texture. The smell from the oven would definitely bowl my two sons over. I know how their nostrils function too well. True enough when the troopers marched in, they immediately opened Rhyxons belly wide to smell the concotion of sauces and ingredients. Mum, now please! exclaimed the younger one. Toast was served together with the chicken. Root beer was mixed. And when all was cleared and gone, the younger son whipped out a guitar from his brothers room and strummed me a song, melting away my tiredness. Another beautiful Sunday for me before I hurried for two lunches invitation. Wheres my jubah? Need to hide all those eating spree after effects later.
Posted on: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 11:28:42 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015