Yesterday was my BE BRAVE Day 8 and I pushed myself to make Chicken Marsala. Part of the reason was that I love anything Marsala, but we always eat it out. I've had the recipe but have been procrastinating about making it for weeks---anticipating the "huge" amount of work and not having much cook-confidence, etc. LoveHubbie is a very good Southern cook with extremely high expectations, and I wanted to try this new recipe and have us enjoy a delicious Chicken Marsala at home---for the first time.
A few weeks ago I made the seasoned bread crumbs in the oven from gluten-free bread. I bought all fresh and organic ingredients. Most were local, too, like the shitake and portabello mushrooms. Lastly, I bought the organic chicken; the chicken's diminishing freshness was the urgency factor that made it my BE BRAVE action yesterday. The eggs were from our chickens. I worked for about five hours in my hot kitchen on it. I wanted to take a picture of it, but was too hot and drained and spent by the end. It wasn't pretty and didn't really go well. Dinner was very late, and it was much, much too salty for me to eat (but perfect for LoveHubbie who enjoys things especially salty). He thought it was okay overall; however, he needed to add lots of sugar (as though it were a bowl of cereal) to his completed meal for it to taste good in his estimation.
Still, there was a sense of accomplishment in making Chicken Marsala imperfectly. I did it. And not really badly, nor well---just imperfectly. I did something hard for me! I knew I risked LoveHubbie's criticism, but did it anyway because for me, the gift was more important than the perfection of the food. I gave it from my heart.
The picture is from chickenmarsala.net. In hindsight, I think it was a bit overambitious as a BE BRAVE action for me just now, but I'm still glad I tried.
On another note, I felt like myself for a few minutes yesterday. I had a very intense gyrotonics session. I wrote more about me and gyrotonics here. It is hard for my large body to get through enough sustained strenuous work to produce endorphins, but I know I did yesterday. I felt like myself and felt so good. It passed in an hour or so, but I was glad to feel so wonderful. It shows me that what makes me me is still in there somewhere and not gone forever. With this depression recovery, I hope to keep uncovering it.
Glimpses of happiness and self-remembering and the memories of both are great motivation for keeping on...