Chicken Marsala

Between cleats at the door and a math worksheet on the counter, Valentine's Chicken Marsala felt doable.

As it warmed, the kitchen smelled like cinnamon humming under it all. I measured with a scale because cups betray you when texture matters.

The steps read clearly and nothing felt hidden between the lines.

A spill happened, of course, but parchment took the hit, not my pan.

I kept the music low and the heat lower; patience gave me better texture than bravado.

Texture held together—no mush, no mystery, just straightforward food.

Add roasted green beans and you’ve got a full plate without extra dishes.

Air fryer the next day gave it life; no sad sogginess.

Next time I’d finish with lemon or a spoon of vinegar; brightness is the difference between fine and good.

For anyone searching valentine chicken marsala recipe, here’s the honest version you won’t mind bookmarking.

I’d make it again with small fixes and shave a point off the site’s rating.