Flops

It seemed a simple enough recipe, from my trustee go-to book in all things Italian, by Marcella Hazan.  For years I'd sliced chicken breasts lengthwise, thin filets cooking in minutes, tender and juicy. This particular recipe called for doing that, and filling them with a ground pork mixture.  Check.  Then it called for tying up the bundles "like a roast."

I don't know how you tie up a roast.  How hard could that be?
Since my hands were sticky with raw chicken and my stomach growling with hunger, I didn't bother to google it.  I had the appropriate twine in my utility drawer, and, I, which I thought was rather nifty and farsighted, cut said twine into six long strands.  I then proceeded to bundle up raw chicken, cooked pork, supplemented by, when necessary, toothpicks.

I should have remembered that I use gift bags--not gift wrap.  With all the pork filling spilling out I felt like I was trussing a mobius strip.

Never mind!  I moved forward, sauteeing the little suckers, er, bundles, which Marcella reminded me should cook rather quickly.  I cooked them longer than I thought necessary, and then a little longer for good luck.

My dinner companions cut through the twine, removed the toothpicks, and sliced up their savory chicken bundles to reveal raw meat.  Through and through.  Bravely, they microwaved what was on their plate.
So did I.  Now it tasted like a chicken who had died in vain.  I scraped it back into the pan and made my dinner of spinach, Ceasar salad, and viognier.  Lots of viognier.