Calorically-Retro

Remind me why I volunteered to make Chicken Divan?

It's not often the SJG cooks a supremely goyisha dish, but sometimes even I stray from my own culinary rules. What do I mean by goyisha? And why must I insult an entire group of pastrami on white bread with mayo lovers?   I can't help myself.  So stop being so sensitive and let me get on with this blog, which I was hoping to keep short, but if you keep asking me huffy questions, and getting all hurt, I'll have to stretch this thing out and my editor told me to cut to the chase for once. That bitch. Who does she think she is? Oh, wait, I'm the editor. What else would you like to know?  What is the goyisha dish I made in advance? And why did I make it?  Don't rush me. The editor just took a coffee break. We've got all the blog space in the world.

I made Chicken Divan for a retro-progressive "Mad Men" era dinner party hubby and I are attending tonight. Mid-50s-mid-60s. Here's hoping I get spanked on the butt and called honey by someone who's had too much scotch. Anyway: Hors d'oeuvres at one home, main course at another, dessert at yet another. Much like kugel, there are 180,000 different ways to make Chicken Divan. The first recipe I found in an old cookbook involved too many steps, so as usual, I went the simple route. Shredded cooked chicken. Condensed mushroom soup (May my mother forgive me.) Sour cream.  Mayo (hence, the over-generalized goyisha label).  Cheddar cheese.  Parmesan cheese.  Buttery bread crumbs.  And broccoli.  Plenty broccoli.  It looks something like this:

God willing, it will taste good. Chances are, I'll never make it again. But I will have fulfilled my assignment. With any luck, no one will have a coronary while consuming it.