I knew Maya Angelou as a poet (Hallmark cards used to sell a line of products based on her poems) and an actress (I saw her on the film "How to Make and American Quilt") but I didn't know that she has already written two cookbooks. I found her recipe for smothered chicken here and here. I have limes which can substitute for the lemons so I gave her recipe a try. I originally planned of cooking tinola, chicken stewed in ginger flavored broth, but I discovered that the limes, which I bought a couple of weeks before, needed to be used immediately.
I also got intrigued with the word "smothered" in the name of the dish. I am interested in knowing how dishes got their name. The story behind the food often motivates me to try to cook it. I was expecting something exciting in the history of smothered chicken. Smother, after all, is a word that makes me think of gruesome images. I would learn later from an online dictionary that smother also means to "cook in a covered pan or pot with little liquid over low heat."
As the chicken was simmering, I left the kitchen to see what my son was doing. I forgot to take note of the time (simmer for 25 minutes, the recipe says) and when I returned to check on the dish the gravy was already gone. One side of the chicken had crunchy crust. I realized, after turning off the burner, that I did not season the chicken with salt and pepper before dredging them in flour. My smothered chicken was greasy and dry and it lacked flavor. If Maya Angelou's dish is a poet, mine is definitely a poetaster.
Amid the disaster, I found comfort in these words by Maya Angelou:
"I would confess -- to myself, at any rate -- that I have blown a dish now and then," she says. "But I would forgive myself and try it again.
"The one thing I'd say to the aspiring cook would be, shop carefully. That, and have patience with yourself. Forgive yourself. It's so important. Otherwise, you won't go back and try again." (You can read the complete article here.)
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