Have I mentioned that I hate to cook? As did my mother before me. I don’t know about her mother as she died when my mother was young and so I never got the pleasure to meet her. Well, however long or short the line may be cooking is not my thing. I do love to eat however. The scale belies me there.
So this particular evening, I just was not in the mood. I poured myself a glass of wine and waxed nostalgic for the wonderful delivery places in NY. Then the slow cooker caught my eye. That round black beast that sits on my counter with the promise of making my life easier. That crockpot has been sort of a crock for me because Ive yet to find a recipe for it that Id actually eat and its not so helpful if you just remember about dinner at 5 pm. As luck would have it, I still had a window of 6 hours. I dumped in the chicken thighs, onions and a can of diced tomatoes and turned it on high for 6 hours. As an after thought I added some orzo and extra liquid.
When 7 pm rolled around, I set the table, poured the wine, (milk for the little guy) served the food and passed the parmesan. E mangiamo bene!
I love when thing go smoothly. I wish it happened more often.