rosemary apple chicken

The problem with being Dumbass Gourmet is that it’s become slowly impossible for me to just cook something. It used to be that coming up with a new recipe every week (or whenever) was a ginormous chore, so I was both amused and annoyed last week when the idea of putting naked chicken breasts in the oven bothered me into looking up recipes. Used to be I could put a sprinkle of Mrs. Dash on my piece and a few twists of sea salt and pepper on The Husband’s and everyone was happy, but those days are apparently gone.

The spanner in the works was that I wanted to use stuff we already had; specifically, the Cameo apples sitting in the fridge. After at least an hour of Googling and rejecting all the recipes that included apple juice (we didn’t have any and I’m too lazy to puree the apples), I landed on an organic, gluten-free blog that had a recipe for roasted rosemary chicken with apples and balsamic vinegar. As a true Pennsylvanian, I love my vinegar — especially on french fries, which everyone in Kentucky thinks is insane — so I was definitely sold. Problem was, the recipe was for a whole chicken and fresh rosemary, but I substituted our chicken breasts and dried rosemary, which I rolled between my fingers until it crumbled into smaller pieces rather than the spikes that come out of the container.

I drizzled the chicken with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, then sprinkled the rosemary on top. The recipe suggested putting the apples around the chicken, but I decided to slice mine thinly and put them on top of the rosemary as well as around the edge of the pan:

I flipped the apples over halfway through cooking so both sides got the rosemary flavor.

The Husband made some mashed potatoes — my favorite food ever — and I dumped out some frozen peas to round out the dinner. The aroma of the vinegar, rosemary, and apples cooking together was amazing, and I could hardly wait to taste the finished product:

For some reason, I can’t embiggen this picture. Trust me, it looks awesome.

I’m happy to say I finished my plate before The Husband even started his. It was absolutely delicious, and I was thrilled to find that we had not one, but two leftover servings of mashed potatoes. Honestly, I would eat mashed potatoes every day if it wouldn’t blow me up like a balloon. Although, as usual, no one can come close to my mother’s cooking, The Husband’s offerings are a close second.