The Perfect One Dish Dinner

Gather ‘round kiddies, pull up a cocktail and let me tell you about a scam I have recently uncovered. 

I am speaking of one dish dinners.  We hear about them in all the woman’s magazines and on the cooking channels.  I've seen pictures of hearty appetizing combinations of all the basic food groups allegedly all prepared in one, comforting, steaming, handcrafted casserole dish.  But in reality, a one dish dinner is just not possible.

After a recent outdoor adventure (a subject for another day), I was cold and aching, but mostly hungry.  As I regained the feeling in my extremities, I decided I had earned a big comfort food dinner.  I recalled a really good one dish chicken dinner I used to make for my little tax deductions back when I was lobbying for the good nursing home.  I hobbled to the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised that I had most of the ingredients. I set about making what promised to be a most welcome reward at the end of an unnecessarily  nature-filled day. 

First thing was to dredge chicken thighs in seasoned flour.  I pulled a glass pie pan out of the cupboard, dumped a cup of flour into it, tossed in salt, pepper, random stuff from my spice drawer and a couple sprigs of fresh thyme (the only plant that survived my gardening attempt last summer).  I wrestled the large, heavy, dutch oven off it’s bottom shelf, splashed in some olive oil and butter, added the chicken, and gently turned the pieces occasionally with the tongs.  While the chicken browned, I scrubbed and peeled the potatoes, and cut them into quarters on the green cutting board (I splurged on the color coded ones).  When the chicken was a perfect golden brown, I removed it from the pot and set it on a waiting plate.  I poured a splash of white wine into the pot to deglaze it, stirred it around, then added a couple tablespoons of flour, and 3 carefully measured cups of chicken stock, whisking it all til it was smooth and started to  thicken.  I dumped in the taters, put the lid on, turned it to a healthy simmer and set the timer for ten minutes. When the timer dinged,  I returned the chicken to the pot, re-set the timer, prepped fresh greenbeans and set them in a bowl to await their turn to jump into the simmering gravy pool.  And I took stock (no pun intended, that would be lame).

Sure, I had a yummy smelling concoction happily bubbling in one bigass pot on the stove, but holy crap – a little to the left of my stove was a pile of other dishes, all related to the preparation of this so-called 'one dish wonder'.  A pile that was so massive, I seriously thought of utilizing my eldest son’s preferred dishwashing technique –  placing them all in a cheap plastic tote and tossing them off the pier.   

So far my one dish dinner has resulted in one flour crusted pie plate, one set of tongs, the plate the chicken waited on, 2 measuring cups (one wet, one dry) one wine glass (you can’t add a splash of wine without balancing it off with a glass of same in the other hand; it’s a rule) one cutting board, one vegetable peeler, one large knife, one small knife, one large spoon, one fork, one whisk, two bowls.  Oh yeah, let’s not forget the unwieldy two ton cauldron this whole mess was brewing in.

As I surveyed the situation, I questioned if iI were just making it too complicated, or was there no such thing as a perfect dinner that could be prepared in one dish.  And then it dawned on me, I've had the recipe all along.  And since I like ya, I'll share it.

Glass is entirely optional

Fill one shaker with ice 

Add a goodly sum of Grey Goose

Wave a vermouth bottle over the top

Remove one chilled martini glass from the freezer (for I am always prepared)

Stab two giant blue cheese stuffed olives with a toothpick, add to glass

Strain the chilled elixir over the olives.

And there we have it – a perfect, satisfying dinner including grains (vodka), protein (blue cheese), vegetables and healthy oils (olives).  

Count the dishes – one.  Well two if you count the  glass.  If you want to strictly adhere to the one dish theme, I suppose it’s possible to drink straight from the shaker, which I have never ever done when no one is looking.  Bon Apetit!

Note to the Mount Desert Harbor Master: The part about my son tossing plastic totes full of dirty dishes off the pier was merely a humorous exaggeration.  He would certainly never to anything like that.   But if a cobalt blue LeCreuset oval gratin dish washes up on shore, I got dibs.