Buttered noodles are the ultimate comfort food, right? That, and orzo cooked in broth and butter, which my grandpa used to make for me when I was sick (never mind that time I had a stomach bug and puked orzo). I have been in a funk (see this morning’s post) between late summer boredom and real estate annoyances (selling a house is a royal pain in the butt, and without offending anyone, real estate agents are possibly the most annoying creatures on earth), so I was looking for comfort in this week’s menu. So, I basically used chicken marsala as an excuse for butter egg noodles. I didn’t bother with mushrooms, just the chicken dredged in flour, browned, and then cooked in the marsala wine. We had cantaloupe and proscuitto on the side.

Lessons from the meal? (Besides the obvious, that buttered noodles rock.) Sometimes it is nice to have fruit instead of vegetables. We probably get more fruit than veggies overall, so we can’t make a habit of it. Second, kids care about nice food. Garrett took three bites of chicken, announced he needed more sauce, said it was “more oil than a sauce,” which was his way of explaining that it was too thin. It was too thin; I was too lazy to reduce and thicken the sauce. I spooned some more sauce on the chicken; Garrett tasted it and proclaimed, “99% better.”


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