Oh Darius... Dear Darius

*LadyLee pulls out quill and parchment, and proceeds to write*

Oh Darius. Dear Darius...

So I was sitting here last week, minding my own business, perusing a few blogs.

I came across this over at Everyday Cookin with Darius:

He called this special creation, a Tequila Lime chicken and Fettuccine.

And the Notes.

From the Peanut Gallery.

Began.

*LadyLee glances over shoulder at cubicle mate*

Ladylee: "Cowgirl Cre, look at this."

*Cowgirl Cre slides over to LadyLee's side of the cubicle*

Cowgirl Cre: "That do look good. Look at that chicken, girl!"

*LadyLee looks over her shoulder to see who else is around*

LadyLee: "Detroit! Come here a minute."

*Lieutenant Detroit Meek-Meek walks from two cubicles away and leans close to see what we're staring at*

Detroit Meek-Meek: "Oooh goodness, that sure does look good. Who made that?"
LadyLee: "This dude name Darius. Dude be having the fiya recipes. And they're real easy."
Cowgirl Cre: "Look at that chicken!"
LadyLee: "I'ma make that. I'ma make it this weekend."

Okay, this went on for several days. A few of us stood around and studied it. I talked of how I was going to make it.

. . .Cowgirl Cre kept hollering about how good the chicken looked.

So, I made a trip to the grocery store and purchased all the ingredients.

3 words. De.Lic.Ious.

Man, that Tequila Lime Chicken Pasta:

Oh Darius... Dear Darius.

BOY. IT. WAS. GOOD.

I don't know WHERE my sister Kentucky was. She was upstairs asleep, studying, yacking on the phone, who knows. She'd gotten a rib sandwich somewhere, and that was her dinner. I called her name once. Called it twice. Wanted her to get a taste.

Whatever. She got none. I ate some, then packed up the rest in a container, and brought it to work on Tuesday.

I heated it up for lunch. Me, Cowgirl Cre, and Ol' Mean Ass Cynthia were huddled in my cubicle slurping it down.

It was good. Hands down, the best pasta dish I've EVER had.

Oh Darius... Dear Darius...

I don't believe it when you said you created this in your Chicago kitchen.

As we use to say when I was a child, running barefoot in the streets and kicking rocks...

"Oooh wee, Darius, you telling a story!!"

Here's the real story of how you came up with that dish:

Darius was skipping through a beautiful forest in Italy, collecting fresh ripe berries and wonderful nuts for a scrumptious pie he'd been wanting to prepare. It would be a lovely end to the wonderful feast he was planning for his Italian friends that next day.

He was skipping along, humming a happy happy song, enjoying the sun warm against his face.

All of a sudden, he stopped. He smelled something... delightful.

"Hark," he whispered. "What's that I smell floating on this lovely breeze?"

He turned, looked here and there, looked everywhere seeking the source of the pleasing scent.

"It is chicken," he finally said. "Smells like 2 boneless skinless breasts of chicken, seasoned liberally with a bit of salt and pepper, a quarter tablespoon of each perhaps."

He looked here and there, to and fro, and spotted a small cottage off in the distance.

"That must be from whence the lovely aroma wafts."

He skipped over to the cottage. Perhaps there would be a lovely family there, who would love to share their chicken with a hungry stranger.

He was parched. Maybe they would also offer a mug of ale.

He knocked once, he knocked twice, and was about to knock a third time.

A disheveled woman answered, her face twisted tight as a fist. "What do you want!?"

Darius smiled. "I want to tell you that that chicken smells great, but it will not do."

"Who the hell asked you? I have chicken and porridge every night."

"I am Chef Darius, Master Chef Darius of the Chicago Province. And that chicken needs a bit of help."

"Go away!" she yelled, and tried to slam the door.

Darius stopped the closing door with his foot. He pushed past her and entered the house. There was a copper pot of porridge bubbling on the stove, a cast iron skillet of chicken breasts sizzling to the side.

"Miss, this chicken will not do. It needs cilantro, cumin, pepper flakes, lime, onion, garlic, Serrano pepper, and a bit of pasta."

He pulled all of it from his knapsack, and mixed it in. He tossed the pot of porridge out the window.

He dug around in his knapsack for something more. "And a bit of libations, some tequila, perhaps. That will set it off". He winked his eye and poured more in.

The lady tasted it, and smiled.

"'Tis good. Tis good, I say," she said. "You, oh Master Chef Darius, have made my day!"

Darius smiled, and was on his way.

Hmm, he thought. "I must make that lovely chicken dish, and place it on my blog!"

Yeah, bruh... THAT'S how you came up in THAT. You were NOT sitting on the train ride home from school, thinking about that. You cannot tell me that. That was on a whole nother level. That was created over in the middle of some Italian forest or something!

LOL!!! It was so good that I had to write a bootleg corny story. Because that was off the CHAIN!!!

So Darius... I write a poem for you, also...

Oh Darius. . . Dear Darius.

Could there be a me and you?
Could there be an us?
My dear Darius?

Oh Darius, Oh Darius...
Don't be so precarious.
A you.
A me.
An us.
Oh Darius. Dear Darius.

A sack of groceries in my left hand,
A skillet in my right.
You walk through the door
My smile is so bright.

Oh Darius, Dear Darius...

Could there be a you, a me, an us?
Dear Darius?
Dear Dauius?

LOL!!!! Boy, that's poetry on crack right there, boy! LadyLee style!

But on the real tip... If you were uh, of the heterosexual persuasion, was about 10-15 years older (What are you, 25 or 26 - YOU still a mere CHILD!), and lived in the ATL?

You would get straight up STALKED!! Stalked HARD!! Harassed!!!

(And I would have a sack of groceries and a skillet with me, because you will COOK for ME).

LOL!!!

But seriously, Darius. You are one helluva cook. That dish was good, and I like how you take pictures of each step. You have to be deaf, dumb, blind and stupid not to understand it. You explain it all so well.

This was my way of doing some bootleg PR work, telling my readers about you, because I LOVE that cooking blog of yours. Everything is very simple and quick- it is definitely "Everyday Cookin' just like you said.

That Tequila Lime chicken fettuccine recipe took less that 30 minutes, from start to finish, from scratch, all fresh ingredients... and I like that, Man!

It was so nice, I made it twice.

I made it again night for the second time. Wasnt' gonna do that, but Cowgirl Cre whined about it all day. Before we left to go home, she pulled out a stack of money and shoved in my face, yelling "That's enough for the chicken!"

LOL

And this time, I threw in some turkey feta tomato sausage. OH JOY.

I know you go to work all day, in school after that... and you take the time to come up with nice creations up there in the Chicago Provinces!

Just wanted to do a little something to make you laugh (either that or make you say... What in the world?)

Keep on cooking, Man... because, us chemists are sitting up here... watching.

Discussing.

I can't wait to sit down and dine in your restaurant someday in the future.

Keep up the good work!