Like Mama Always Taught Me

Best way to a man's heart is through his belly. Mama, may she rest in peace, sure knew her shit. But she would serve beef stew. I take a more epicurean, ethnic approach, though. All good.

I made Moroccan Chicken Pie, AKA Chicken B'stilla,* and I think I made my culinary point. The Guy is a fan, it seems. He's been sent home with quel doggie-bag. What can I say? Nothing like cooking for folks who appreciate it.

(*Wrapped in phyllo and baked: Chicken, almonds, currants, turmeric, ginger, garlic, cinnamon, an entire bunch of cilantro & parsley, some stock thickened with eggs, and then sprinkled with cinnamon and icing sugar before serving. It's been called sex on a plate, and ain't far off. I may do y'all a favour and post it... when apathy is no longer my friend.)