Every once in a while, I get plain proud of what I can do in a kitchen. I mean, I know I’m a good cook (said in the most humble tone possible) but I get complimented on my baking much more than I do my cooking. There is also something great about watching my husband’s face when he truly enjoys something. I mean, enjoys it to the point that it SHOCKS him. Such was last night and my masterful attempt at homemade orange chicken. I’ve made this recipe before (in fact, it’s in the blog, here), but I think we both forgot how good it was.
Truly, no need for takeout. And right now, that is a very good thing.