Slacking

On Tuesday night, all I wanted to do was put my feet up.  I ran 15 miles through the St. Patrick's Day parade in the afternoon, wishing I had chosen another day to do so.  A trip to the movies to see Watchmen, possibly the longest--and worst--move I have ever wasted 11 bucks on with the exception of Saw II made me hungry and tired.  My partner in crime decided we had spent too much money the night before and suggested we cook. 

I want a meal that requires few pans, little preparation, and a dedication to product.  We found chicken thighs (skin off, a vast disappointment, but oh, well), thick asparagus, perfect white potatoes, Persian cucumbers, decent-enough arugula, and sugar snap peas at C Town, my most local and most ethnic supermarket.  Back home, I tossed the thighs and asparagus together with olive oil, salt, pepper, and lemon juice.  I put the thighs on a baking sheet and sent them on their way at 400 degrees.  When they were half done, after about ten minutes, I added the asparagus to the tray.  

We sliced the Persian cukes and put them together with arugula, halved sugar snaps, wide strips of peeler-sliced Parmesan, and red onion, tossed with the remainder of my lemon, salt, pepper, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar.  Peeled and boiled potatoes came together with two tablespoons of nonfat Greek yogurt, a half cup of warmed skim milk, some butter, salt, and pepper.  We mashed, then whisked.  They were perfect. 

Our meal took 30 minutes, just enough time for us to polish off a glass each of Gruet, New Mexico's own methode champanoise sparkler.  In the time it took to shop for and cook dinner, Watchmen would have been finishing its introductory sequence. I'll take the chicken thighs over that Marvel failure any day.