#chicken cutlet recipe

[daily-deliciousness]

Wiener schnitzel (easy recipe)

[cuubism]

physical therapy, part 6.

--

Hob's been wavering on things like timeline with Dream because, well, he doesn't want to push, but he does obviously want more. There's a lot that he wants, and he thinks Dream wants it too. But Hob can be patient. Definitely. For sure. He's the epitome of patience.

In any case, after a few more dates which are oh so very patient, and in which Dream seems to be gradually coming more and more out of his shell, Hob finally takes the plunge and texts him:

If you want, come over to my place this weekend and I'll cook for you, and adds his address.

He paces nervously while waiting for a response. Dream coming over... he doesn't know how that would end. Well, it would hopefully at least end in Dream eating a proper meal, but other than that...

It's really not so long before he gets a response, though it feels like an eternity.

Okay, writes Dream, with a smile. 🙂 Should I bring anything?

Just yourself, writes Hob.

A shame, for I was planning to arrive incorporeally.

Hob smiles to himself at the comment. Dream is so much brighter once he decides he’s allowed to be.

On the agreed-upon date, Hob spends a truly excessive amount of time getting ready. He’s not even cooking anything elaborate, as he felt convinced he’d wind up fucking it up out of nerves if he did. But really, the quality of his food isn’t the wild card. What he’s nervous about is Dream’s response to being in his home. To being alone. Whether he’ll be okay with it. He doesn’t want to make Dream nervous.

But Dream arrives on time, and he’s smiling when Hob opens the door. He’s also carrying a huge canvas.

Oh!” Hob says, distracted from even kissing him hello. “What have you got there?”

“It is for you,” Dream says, and turns the canvas around so Hob can see it.

It’s a large painting of a rather clever-looking cat, bright colors and bold swathes of paint. It reminds Hob of Dream’s finger paintings, actually, but far more precise in technique. It’s lovely. It’s so cute. And much more playful than Dream’s older art, the pieces he had shown Hob from before his injury.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,”  he says, and Dream smiles shyly. “I take it your grip’s been feeling steadier, then?”

“Somewhat,” Dream says, following Hob deeper into the flat, as Hob takes the painting and sets it on top of a low bookshelf, propped against the wall. Later he’ll have to hang it up properly. “I am. Enjoying painting again. I think.”

It’s so good to hear. Each time Hob sees Dream he seems incrementally better. Less frozen. More outgoing. And it always makes Hob realize that he’s only gotten to see a fraction of the life that truly exists inside of him.

“I’m so glad to hear that, darling,” he says.

It hurts to think of the version of Dream that might have been there before being hurt. But Hob likes the Dream that he gets to know now.

He leads Dream into the kitchen and bids him to sit down at the table while Hob serves their food, which is staying warm on the stove. Normally, when he invites someone over, he’d offer them wine, but he doesn’t want Dream to get the wrong idea. God, he’s probably massively overthinking things. He’s being totally paranoid, he knows it. But it feels so important that it be right. He’d never forgive himself if he made Dream feel unsafe around him, even if it was by accident.

“I am curious what you’ve prepared to attempt to persuade me to change my habits,” Dream says, after taking a sip of the water Hob’s handed him.

“Something with a lot of butter,” Hob says, and Dream laughs softly. Dream needs it, though. He needs something that’ll stick to his bones.

What he has is tarragon chicken—fried in, truly, an excessive amount of butter—served over rice with string beans. If this can’t encourage Dream to eat real meals, nothing can.

And, gratifyingly, he’s right. Dream devours it, and has seconds. As he eats his own serving more sedately Hob wonders when the last time was that somebody actually cooked for him.

They barely even talk, but Hob doesn’t mind. He just wants Dream to eat.

“You can cook,” Dream says, and Hob laughs.

“Was that in question?”

A light blush graces Dream’s cheeks. “When you first mentioned cooking for me, I had the thought that you were a catch. For that reason among others.”

Hob can’t help himself from smiling—and perhaps blushing a bit, too. “I’ll have to keep it up, and maybe you’ll keep me.”

Dream looks down at his food, but murmurs, “I would like to.”

So Hob takes his hand on the table and squeezes it.

Later in the evening, when they’ve been ensconced on the couch for a while watching mindless telly, Dream’s head on his shoulder, Hob says, “You can stay over if you want. No expectations. Just don’t want you walking home in the dark.”

He’ll walk Dream home if that’s what he really wants, but it’s already midnight and it really might be easier to just stay put.

“Am I allowed to stay over in your bed?” Dream asks, and Hob’s pulse jumps.

“That’s what you want?”

Dream nods.

So, heart still beating hard, Hob says, “Alright. Come on, then.”

And Dream takes his hand as Hob draws him up.

He gets Dream situated with some of his pajamas, which are far too large on him, and with a spare toothbrush and so on, and when they’re finally ready he tries not to be too awkward or nervous as he climbs into bed and gestures Dream to follow, saying, “Come on, love.”

He expects Dream might hesitate, but he doesn’t, just crawls into bed after him and presses himself all up against Hob’s body, laying his head on Hob’s chest. And— God. He’s really decided that he trusts Hob. It puts a lump in Hob’s throat.

He feels like a fucking teenager again, stomach all fluttery just at the feeling of Dream lying against him. In past relationships, Hob had mostly jumped in sex-first, questions-later. But maybe there are more benefits to taking things slow than he thought. It makes every tiny thing feel monumental.

“Comfortable?” he asks, and Dream nods, hair brushing Hob’s chin.

“Yes, thank you.”

Hob pulls the blankets up over them, pets his hair. Dream lets out a long, happy sigh, and snuggles closer.

I’m going to keep you, Hob thinks. “Goodnight, Dream,” he says.

[hot-kitchen]

SO TASTY I HAVE NOT COOKED YET! JUICY, TENDER MEAT FOR ANY HOLIDAY! BEAUTIFUL DISH SERVING!

[vegan-nom-noms]

Vegan Italian Chicken Sandwiches

[ohmytomatoe]

[sailorcheese]

b’s gotta be one of the luckiest people in the world I may not have a job atm but I really am doing the most with dinner & taking care of the apartment

[stewwithsabasblog]

Crispy Chicken and Cheese Croquettes

[wbnsfwfactory]

Cuisine - Chicken Breast Cutlets with Artichokes and Capers In this simple yet delicious chicken dish, golden-brown chicken cutlets are served with a lemony artichoke and caper sauce.

[liquidinspiration]

Easy Oven-Baked Chicken Cordon Bleu This dinner recipe for easy, oven-baked chicken cordon bleu oozes with Cheddar cheese and will take less than 1 hour from start to finish. 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper, 6 thin slices deli ham, cooking spray, 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 2 tablespoons milk, 1/2 cup chicken broth, 1.25 cups bread crumbs, 1 egg beaten, 2 tablespoons butter melted, 2 cups shredded sharp Cheddar cheese divided, 1 tablespoon garlic powder, 6 boneless skinless chicken breast cutlets, 1 teaspoon oregano

[chelseahogue]

Chicken Katsu Recipe Chicken katsu is a panko-crusted cutlet that is fried in the Japanese style. For a dish fit for a restaurant, serve with hot rice and tonkatsu sauce.

[wellsrachael]

European - Easy Chicken Parm No messy breading but just as delicious, this easy chicken Parm recipe combines a tasty medley of chicken cutlets, tomato sauce, and gooey mozzarella cheese.

[chermetro]

Recipe for Easy Oven-Baked Chicken Cordon Bleu This dinner recipe for easy, oven-baked chicken cordon bleu oozes with Cheddar cheese and will take less than 1 hour from start to finish.

[maggiegreenie]

Crispy Baked Chicken with Giardiniera Recipe Perfectly tender and juicy chicken cutlets are topped with mild or hot giardiniera and provolone cheese. Play around with different crouton flavors for variety. 1/2 cup all-purpose flour, salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste, 2 large eggs beaten, 4 boneless skinless chicken breasts, 1/2 cup giardiniera, 3 tablespoons olive oil, 4 slices provolone cheese, 2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley, 1.5 cups butter and garlic croutons

[lunasquared]

This is my Tony being Italian and his mother would kill him if he couldn’t cook Italian food headcanon coming out here.

But like Tony did cook things for himself sometimes but it was only Italian food cause it was the only thing he knows how to cook. God forbid you let this man into a kitchen and ask him to make eggs or something but ask him to make homemade manicotti crepes and all he’s got you. His mother would’ve killed hom if he didn’t know how to make Italian food.

So when he’s not eating waffles and blueberries and some sort of fast food he’s eating manicotti that he pulled out of the freezer from that time he made like 50 of them. Or he’s making a quick batch of red sauce to go with his pasta. Hell this man could even pull off Chicken Francese if he was feeling fancy.

But ask him to make tacos or something or a dish that wasn’t a staple in his Italian household it’s burnt to a crisp everytime or completely inedible.

(Rhodey doesn’t understand how this happens cause Tony can cook a mean lasagna but somehow caught ramen noodles on fire the first time he tried to make them. For some reason these skill are not at all transferable for Tony and he can’t figure out why.)

(Peter is trying to figure out why Tony exclusively cooks Italian food then orders everything else. He’s not complaining he loves when Tony makes authentic Alfredo and complains about the stupid american version with cream or is making a huge batch of manicotti and is explaining how to make the crepes perfect but he just wants some enchiladas damn it. (Tony got mad when he made a joke that manicotti are Italian enchiladas.))

“Get out of my kitchen”

RDJ on Jimmy Kimmel Show (January 2024) mentioned that he has a chef who cooks for him and his family and I thought... unlike Robert or Batman with his Alfred, Tony had no chef… and since cooking was one of the few things he wasn't good at, and Pepper wasn’t in charge of it until Endgame… what the heck has he been eating all these years?

And I mean ALL the years since, let’s say the death of Edwin Jarvis, which we don’t know when happened.

I doubt Pepper cooked for him before they got married (coffee is not food). There’s no mention of it, and she had enough other responsibilities.

So looks like he ate fast food most of the time? At best, he ate in restaurants (including his jet), ordered takeout, or ate something that didn't require cooking. Like waffles, berries, fruits, or smoothies.

So basically, until he and Pepper started living together and Pepper had enough free time (after Thanos' snap) to cook, he didn't have homemade food. For decades.

Here are the only times we see him eating home-cooked food before Endgame:

Yinsen cooked for both of them in the cave, but the taste and nutritional qualities of this brew are questionable.

In AoU Laura Barton cooked for the whole team, but that was once.

Aunt May treats him to her walnut and date loaf.

All happened after he was captured and became Iron Man. Why didn't he have a chef to cook for him? It’s not like he had no money to hire one.

He was really bad at being a billionaire, wasn't he?

[bibliotecativa]

Keto Open-Faced Chicken Cordon Bleu Since there is no stuffing or rolling required, this recipe is keto-friendly and easier to put together. It also has all the flavors of chicken cordon bleu.