Last weekend, our quiet, mostly sedate home was transformed into a lively, welcoming party locale. It was time to celebrate Daughter’s birthday, the last of our 3-month festive trifecta, maybe I should say trifesta. Daughter chose the décor, the food, et al and it was a great success.

However, somehow in the midst of the festivities our refridgerator got turned off. Constant Companion and I are not quick about technology and frankly did not realize or explore the situation until, well, Monday. I pulled out the manual and tried to follow instructions for what I thought would remedy it. No change.

In the meantime, we saw that the contents of the “inside” freezer were thawing. I made a quick call to our appliance fix-it man. He came promptly on Tuesday, pushed some buttons not mentioned in the manual and, voila, it was up and running again. While on the premises, he carefully moved the bohemith out of the space it’s squeezed into and cleaned whatever needs to be cleaned in back of the machine.

What to do with thawed meats, etc.? Actually a few mysteries were buried in the depths. Among them was a ziplock bag of roasted red peppers (I threw them away with no immediate use), a plastic container of chicken/orzo soup (Constant Companion and I enjoyed it for dinner).

I turned to google and learned that certain meats (beef and lamb) can be refrozen and refrozen. The chicken, however, could not. So, a mini-marathon of cooking. First was a half, buttermilk-brined chicken from Trader Joe’s. That went straight into the oven, following instructions on the package. We all enjoyed that for dinner.

Next were several packages of chicken breasts. That very morning, the New York Times daily recipe was Chicken Au Poivre, a play on the French classic steak au poivre, but with … chicken. Now, you need to subscribe to the Times to open their recipes. However, an online search will reveal other cook’s/chef’s variations of the same. I perused directions of a few and combined ingredients and directions from several for my thawed poultry.

Chicken Au Poivre. I had a pack of full breasts which I carefully cut into thinner pieces and a package of chicken tenders to work with.

Salt and pepper your chicken breasts. Put a few tablespoons of olive oil into a skillet. When hot, add the meat leave for 3-4 minutes til somewhat browned. Turn and leave for 3-4 minutes. Remove from skillet and put into a moderate oven. Remember, don’t crowd the meat in the pan (a tv cooking show instruction), so I cooked 3 batches.

The recipe called for adding one chopped shallot, but I’d used my last one the night before. To create the sauce, deglaze the pan with ½ cup of dry white wine (good use for leftover party wine) or cooking sherry and some rosemary. Boil for 5 minutes. Add 1 cup of chicken broth and boil til reduced. You can add 1/2 cup of cream as well, to really replicate steak au poivre. Return the chicken to the sauce, make sure all are well coated. Continue cooking over a low heat for about 5 more minutes and enjoy.

Also lurking in the recesses of the freezer was a package of tortillas. Thawing left them a bit soggy and messy. I transformed them into baked tortilla chips, something I do from every once in a while.

Stack the tortillas in layers of 3 or 4. Brush each tortilla with a bit of oil before stacking. Cut through each stack to make 8 wedges. Arrange wedges in a single layer on a cookie tin and add spicing. I simply add salt; you can add cumin, chili powder, lime juice, according to your taste. Bake in a moderate oven (350F) for about 7 minutes, turn and bake another 7 minutes. Remove and bake the next batch. Easy baked tortilla chips.

Apologies for the lack of finished pictures. I guess I was too shaken that I forgot to take photos of the finished dish. It was really good.

Perhaps we were all preoccupied and thus, not on top of the fridge situation. Our elder kitty, Jinxie, had been ill for quite a while, but was soldiering through it. Monday morning she greeted me, sat on my lap, greeted daughter, then layed down a did her best to breath her last.

We miss her quiet sense of humor.