I've had a craving for one of my standby meals lately: Balsamic-Glazed Chicken. I haven't made it in months. I believe I may have based it on a Rachael Ray recipe, but I do it my own way now. Also, I never measure anything.
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Heat olive oil in a pan, sautee chopped garlic and shallots several minutes. Add 4-5 boneless chicken breasts (thinner is better), add salt and pepper. Brown several minutes each side. Pour balsamic vinegar liberally over each piece of chicken, coating both sides. Continue cooking until glaze bubbles and thickens and chicken is done.
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Favorite side dishes for this meal (very common dishes; I don't follow a specific recipe for these -- the ones linked are just what came up on Google):
Sauteed Green Beans with Garlic
Garlic-Rosemary Roasted Potatoes
You may have noticed that all three of these recipes have something in common. That something is garlic. I love garlic. I love it with an unconditional depth and intensity unmatched by any other food substance. In fact, now that I think about it, there is no way I've had this blog for several months without already waxing dramatic about my garlic obsession. Suffice to say, then, that I put garlic in pretty much everything I make. And I want to make one thing very clear: if it is coming out of a jar or any other form of container, it is not garlic. It is a poor substitute marketed toward those who don't know any better. Buy it fresh. Seriously. You'll never look back, and you may just mourn all that time you lost before you saw the light.
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