Thurs. Dec. 30
The great sullen chunk of protein (you're a genius, Peg Bracken) sitting in the fridge is currently the turkey breast from Christmas Day. We try to have it only every other day, and to make it as different as possible.
In this case, we hearkened back to Barbara's memory of her a beloved childhood dish, Chicken à la King, as experienced at age 10 or so in the restaurant of the Charter House Motel in Alexandria VA, on a summer trip to Washington DC. So sixties.
In this case, it was a stripped-down version: a half pound of sliced mushrooms, sautéed in oil and butter in a big pan; a red pepper, blistered on the gas ring and sliced and diced, thrown in with it; some flour on top to make a roux, and a little chicken broth and sherry to form a slurry; finally a big douse of heavy cream, and pulled-apart turkey breast pieces on top. Tasty, but bland, just as it's supposed to be.
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