The SO ----was gracious enough to pick me up from NBW. To repay the graciousness of the SO, I suggested that I was going to clear the stuff from her refrigerator and cook for her. I mentioned that there were two bottles of wine that were not going to be drunk. We might as well figure out what a white sauce tastes like.

Off we went to the home abode of the SO. I brought along deboned chicken thighs and chicken wings. Also got some yellow onions, tomatoes, and baby carrots. The recipe and what I did is shown in the May 31st entry.

What I forgot to mention was the following: After sautéing the chicken, I told the SO that I was going to reduce the chicken by adding red wine (I believe a 2002 Charles Shaw Merlot, which tasted reasonably) to the iron skillet. The SO complained that I was going to burn down the house if I continued to reduce by adding the red wine. At this moment, the spirit of Jacques Pepin and Emeril entered my body. I straightened my back and said: "Bam! Bam! How can-I burn down zee kizchen? I am a world reznowned chef! Putwah!"

To add injury to the insult, the SO then took the fire extinguisher, took off the lock, and pointed it at the iron skillet and my precious, lily-soft hands. "Where is zee faith? Where is zee trust? Am I znut a Profezzional? Am I nut a zhef? Ahh! I will walk zee out. I will zee strike and demonstrate outzide."

Thankfully however, the skillet and my hair did not catch on fire. The house is still there. And I have red wine - white wine chicken.