Baked Chicken

I'm stuck in the rut of always baking chicken on Tuesdays.

I don't really mean to. Its just that I get to 2 o'clock every Tuesday and open the fridge and see the packet of bone in chicken thighs and know in my heart that Matt won't bother to cook them as he does so well–in sauce, he always cooks them in various delicious sauces–and then, sometimes in fits of anger, but more usually in a distracted way, I mash a whole lot of vegetables into the bottom of a baking dish, plunk the chicken on top, lather it with oil and salt and pepper and bake it.

Then the children come in and say, 'what are we having for dinner' and I always say 'baked chicken' and they look at me like, 'are you really for real? You've got to be kidding.' And then I say, 'I'm not kidding.'