It’s Saturday here, and the time is inching — minuting? seconding? — toward noon. It looks to be a scorcher, close to a hundred degrees, so of course I’ve been cooking and generally mucking about the kitchen since I got up at 4:30. I cooked up a family pack of chicken thighs two different ways, one set of four with mixed herbs, one primarily flavored with lemon pepper. The chicken, along with its corresponding pan juices, is in the fridge for later. I may be obsessive, but if I have the stamina, that’s how I roll.
With the bulk of the chicken out of the way, I found I had one chicken thigh and two pork chops left in the fridge that wanted cooking today. I figured okay, breakfast chops with country gravy, maybe with fruit, bread and some mashed potatoes, since it’s getting too warm to bake biscuits. Alas, poor timing!
The chops were about half done when Bryan had to go rest. He doesn’t sleep well at night, so it happens. So, while finishing up the chops, I decided to go full-on with the gravy. I dredged the chicken thigh in the same seasoned flour I’d used for the chops, then fried it and cut it up small. Then came some Black Forest bacon cooked in the same pan, because bacon. When that was done, I drained the bacon and poured off the fat; the chopped chicken mopped up the bacon glaze in the pan nicely while I cut up the bacon. Both went into the container holding the last of the seasoned flour to make a roux, which I dosed with thyme to make up for the lack of sausage. When everything is well-chilled, I’ll mix the cold pan glazes into milk to flavor the gravy, which we’ll most likely have tomorrow with eggs, more bacon, and biscuits.
What about the chops, you say? I’ve been eating off and on since I got up this morning, and Bryan just wanted chops today, so he had the chops sans gravy. It happens.