It was glorious.
In the interest of full disclosure, I'm writing this on Tuesday evening with a belly full of wine and chicken picatta. Chicken Picatta! Have you seen Jane's new blog?
Here's the paragraph where I explain (again? I think) about what it means to tell a turkey sandwich in the Corey family, and how on this occasion mine was born from a chicken picatta sample on the same day that Jane was making chicken picatta during mom's visit, but I already told my mom and sisters this turkey sandwich in an email, and I really think they are the only ones who read my blog posts, except for Beth. I shall tell it for Beth! You're welcome.
Here's what I emailed:
So you want to hear my funny/dumb turkey sandwich conundrum? The other day at trader joe's I had a sample of their chicken picatta, and I had had chicken picatta on my mind because mom and the Holts had just had it. Lucky. This morning I bragged to the kids that we'd be having chicken picatta for dinner. I did indeed take today off, but became annoyed at myself for wasting so much of it at the gym. So rather than go to the grocery store like a normal person, I did a speed trial through target to get the shit I could remember we needed, including chicken breasts for said picatta. Came home, looked at the recipe, realized the capers I thought we had were probably like 80 years old and thrown away when clara was born. So I need capers, and parsley. So I should go to Trader Joe's. Where I could just buy the delicious chicken picatta I sampled the other day. First world problems, man.
It's a really boring story. That's why it's a turkey sandwich. Anyway.
I took control of the situation by not going to Trader Joe's. Ha! I'll show you, universe. Several hours later, I went to Vons. I picked up many of the things on my list, this being the last of myriad shopping stops I had made over the course of my relaxing day off, I wasn't overly concerned with anyone's wish list aside from my own. I needed capers and parsley, damn it.
I knew exactly where to find the parsley.
Capers, though. Where could they possibly be? I looked in the general condiment environment, but had no luck. I looked near olives (thanks Janet) and salad dressing (thanks Eric) and gourmet ingredients (thanks vons boy who did not understand my definition of capers). What are capers, anyway? In all fairness, when I asked the vons boy where I could find capers, I immediately added: "It's hard to find something when I don't even know what it is," which gave him a wide open door to ask "What is a caper?" I'd been down this road before, though, Bill and I had looked it up once and I knew with certainty that a caper was some class of fucking flower! So that's what I told the guy. "Um. It's some kind of, like, flower? but looks like tiny balls floating in brine? I think they're expensive?"
He suggested that I look in produce, and adorably offered to accompany me. But I let him off the hook, because I knew just who to ask.
email sent 3:36 pm to coreys:
"Oh my God where are the fucking capers?!"
I found them. In between the olives and the salad dressing, where I'd looked no less than three times. I think the vonsboy went and planted them after I rejected him. They were only $2.99.
and they were delicious.