Round two.

After Friday's social-event-shaped meal interruption and Saturday's me-sleeping-until-six, I finally found my way back into a kitchen this evening (my own; I try to make it something of a habit to not just appear in other folks' kitchens). I was still bent on putting asparagus in the same place as chicken, but beyond that I hadn't yet any idea what I'd do. Stir fry seemed a pretty obvious choice, and that made me uncomfortable (it always seems like a cop-out).

I paid a visit to AllRecipes.com for some inspiration, which, in an unusually brief span of time, I did indeed find. Fajitas! Kind of! Really just a wrap, but the recipe in question decided against such a bland name. And why not? It's like a party! ("Fajita," being vaguely similar to "fiesta," more-than-subtly implies a party to me.)

Unfortunately, the only ingredient I had on hand was the chicken, but that needed some time to marinade and I had a bit of running to do anyway, so that worked out well. I cut it into diagonal-type strips, imprisoned it in a Ziploc bag with some Italian dressing and red pepper flakes, and headed out the door.

First stop was the store, which I found out was a bad idea. See, I often wind up doing my grocery shopping around 10pm. I prefer this because the place is deserted and nobody's around to watch me pace absentmindedly up and down the same aisle two times trying to remember what I'm after, and then another two on top of that actually looking it, before realizing I'm in the wrong aisle altogether. No such luck today; every idiot with a driver's license and ten bucks was in that place, and I was right there with 'em.

Apparently today is playing host to a football game (or so I'm told; I did not consult the Internet to confirm), so there were a lot of guys in crooked hats and pajama pants buying beer I wouldn't even consider feeding to a dog, as well as many a grim middle-aged woman with nachos, frozen wings, and probably a hatred for men. There was one early-thirties business-type fellow in a nice trench coat buying only a single DiGiorno pizza, which he held in one hand. I felt bad that he had to wait in line with all the frat guys and angry women just to eat his dinner. I didn't see what kind of pizza he had.

Anyway. Bought my stuff, got the hell out, drove home, realized I forgot to go to the bank, drove to the bank, acquired some bills, drove back, put some money on my laundry card, got freaked out by the giant monster noises issuing from the laundry room (demon washer), talked to my crazy neighbor (twice; he too was spooked by the noises), and finally got down to business.

The rest is pretty much me cooking by the book, with the addition of some quartered grape tomatoes, so I don't suppose there's a whole lot to say. It was very tasty, didn't cost a ton, and ought to reheat well. Plus, it's probably the first dish I've put together that, despite being like 75% vegetables, didn't scream "this asshole didn't get enough meat."

What do you need to make it?

• One chicken breast (cubed or whatever)
• Two thirds of a "bunch" of asparagus (cut into two-inch... parts)
• Two bell peppers (julienned)
• One third of a red onion (diced)
• A half-cup of grape tomatoes (quartered)
• Two cloves of garlic (minced)
• Some sesame oil
• Some balsamic vinegar
• Some soy sauce
• Some lemon juice
• Seasonings (you figure it out)
• Tortillas or wraps or whatever

Once you've rustled up all that garbage, cook it. Saute the chicken with the oil until it's done being pink, then toss in the rest of the crap (excluding maybe the tomatoes, which will probably overcook if put in at this point). Add a bit more oil. After a while, add the tomatoes. Cook until it looks like you should be eating it instead of cooking it any longer. Ingest. Digest.