So, I slept late Saturday morning and had every intention of going to Lincoln to get more errands done, but wound up never leaving the house. Couple of loads of laundry processed, giant nap taken, and the rest of a giant bag of frozen chicken wings turned into vats of chicken stock. (Unfortunately I didn’t have carrots or onion, so there’s no telling how it will turn out.)
There were so many wings I had three batches going. One in a regular pot, one in a crock pot, and one in my old pressure cooker. I don’t mind telling you that I am terrified of pressure cookers and when looking at it hissing away, I hold something in front of my face in case it explodes.
Fear cooking. There’s nothing finer.