When I was planning this week's dinner menus, I decided to make Chicken a la King despite having a horrific memory of that dish at a church camp where they also served powdered scrambled eggs and other atrocities. I felt I just couldn't mess it up that bad. The recipe suggested serving the chicken and sauce over puff pastry shells that you can buy in the freezer section. You bake the frozen pastries and they puff up light and warm. The dish looked much more impressive than the effort I put into it.
I was already feeling like a 1950's housewife when my husband came through the door carrying a single red rose and a card for me. He knows I'd kill him for buying a dozen roses, and anyway, one was plenty!
Then Miss Pink asked if we could have a candlelight dinner. So we ate our fancy-looking chicken in pastry shells in the candlelight with classical music playing in the background.
It was a lovely dinner, except for the fact that Mr. Blue wouldn't eat any of the pastry, dropped chicken on the floor, left to go the bathroom twice and came back without any underwear on.
They just don't provide entertainment like that at fancy restaurants.