cooking for my little bro

Both of my brothers cook, and they both take pride in how they organize their kitchens. I spent the afternoon in my brother David's kitchen, prepping my Middle Eastern chicken and appreciating the logical, intuitive way in which David had organized everything. Whatever I wanted, be it utensils or a skillet, I knew right where to go to find it. While I don't think you have to be a genius to organize a kitchen well, it certainly helps to have a dose of common sense when it comes to how a kitchen must be arranged to work smoothly. David obviously has that sense, and as a result, today's cook proceeded swimmingly.

Here's a tantalizing, shadowy shot into a pot in which I had dumped most of the meal's components:

And here's my plate:

All in all, quite good, except for the gross moment when I bit into a chunk of chicken and got a mass of gristle for my trouble (damn you, Wegmans!). Unlike many Asians, I'm not into cartilage and knuckles and fascia and tendons and connective tissue. All I want is meat; everything else is irrelevant. Aside from that little horror, though, the meal was fine.

I had told David he should pack the leftovers up for lunch tomorrow. He just texted back that, when he came back inside the house after walking two of the dogs, he saw that Maqz the chihuahua had hopped up on the table and begun eating the chicken himself. So, alas, David had to throw out all the leftovers. Oh, well.