I try to be healthy. I try.
I eat only healthy foods, and those are heavy with vegetables. I shy away from fast food, with only a visit once or twice a month. And no snacking. I drink lots and lots of water. I have cut down on my coffee. But I drink wine every night. And it’s not a glass. *sigh*.
I make up for it with jogging, or weightlifting.
But my work load is heavy.
And do not get me going on my disappointments. That’s a story in itself.
But at my age, you gotta treat what you have as a valuable commodity.
Now, nearby our house is a Business Complex. It is a cluster of office buildings built upon a kind of outdoor mall with food shops. And we go there for some cheap eats. As they serve the 20 – 30 crowd of office workers.
It’s different than going to a regular mall. Most everyone there are workers.
It’s an interesting contrast. Ah. I see my age, in many ways. Wrinkles. Fashion. Attitude, and the way you act. Right now, I’m comfortable in who I am and what I have gone though, though those around me (at the business mall) are just starting the battle. Oh, poor guys.
If you are older… you know what I am talking about.
I’ll leave it at that.
Today…
OP-ED: Iran Sends Message to Washington
Hal Turner World March 21, 2026
OP-ED: Iran sends a message to Washington.

In a tightly structured 12-minute address, Ayatollah Imam Sayyed Mojtaba Khamenei moved from familiar rhetoric into something far more consequential. The opening half followed the expected script; revisiting decades of U.S. warmongering rhetoric: sanctions, assassinations, regional conflicts.
But midway through, the tone shifted from retrospective to strategic.
Sayyed Khamenei outlined three concrete demands, each with a defined timeline:
- a rapid U.S. military withdrawal from the Middle East, and;
- a full rollback of sanctions within 60 days, and;
- long-term financial compensation for economic damages.
Then came the ultimatum. Fail to comply, and Iran escalates, economically, militarily, and potentially nuclear. Not hypothetically, but operationally: closing the Strait of Hormuz, formalizing defense ties with Russia and China, and moving from ambiguity to declared nuclear deterrence.
The timing of external reactions was just as telling. Within hours, both Beijing and Moscow issued statements aligning, carefully but unmistakably, with Tehran’s framing. This definitely looked coordinated.
The broader context matters. Sayyed Mojtaba Khamenei represents a different leadership style from his martyred predecessor leader. Where martyr Sayyed Ali Khamenei operated through long-term balancing and controlled escalation, Sayyed Mojtaba appears positioned to deliver faster, more decisive outcomes.
Iran’s internal reports are clear, the Islamic Revolution Guard Corps is in no way, shape or form interested in incrementalism. They are pushing for structural change: removing U.S. influence from the region, restoring Iran’s military standing, and forcing a re-negotiation of global power dynamics.
And for the first time in decades, Iran practically has the leverage to do this.
Rising oil prices, regional instability, growing alignment with China and Russia, and vulnerabilities in global trade routes have shifted the strategic landscape.
So this was not just a speech. It was a test. A test of whether the United States is willing, or even able, to operate under a new set of constraints.
What happens next will likely define not just the trajectory of this conflict, but the broader balance of power in the Middle East for decades to come.
BY: Marwa Oswan PRESSTV – Beirut, Lebanon
Americans are leaving the American dream for China, Is China the new American dream?
The American Dream is dead — but in China, a new dream is alive and thriving. While millions in the U.S. struggle with sky-high rent, crushing debt, and a collapsing middle class, China’s rising middle class is buying homes, saving money, and living a lifestyle most Americans can’t even imagine.
In this video, we break down why the new American Dream may actually exist in China. From affordable housing to world-class infrastructure, from job stability to healthcare access, China is showing the world a very different reality than the one Americans are told to believe.
Lemon Grass Chicken Curry

Yield: 3 servings
Ingredients
- 12 ounces boneless chicken, chopped into small pieces
- 1 tablespoon red curry paste
- 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
- 1 tablespoon fish sauce
- 2 stalks lemon grass, finely chopped
- 5 Kaffir lime leaves, shredded
- 1/2 teaspoon crushed palm sugar (or light brown sugar)
- 1/2 cup water
Instructions
- Place chicken in bowl, add curry paste and stir to coat chicken; set aside for 30 minutes.
- In wok, heat oil, add garlic and fry until golden.
- Stir in chicken, then fish sauce, lemon grass, lime leaves, sugar and water.
- Simmer for 15 to 20 minutes until chicken is cooked through. If chicken becomes too dry, add a little more water, but the final dish should be quite dry.
The Neighbour
Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“
C. Charles
“Hi, what’s up?” Paul asked.
“Just on my way home. Are you getting supper?”
“Yeah, but you’ll never guess who I’m behind.”
“Who?”
“Weirdo across the street,” Paul said.
“Oh, really? Did you figure out where she’s going?”
“No, but I’m gonna keep following her,” Paul said with a laugh.
“Oh my god, Paul don’t actually follow her. That’s so weird.”
“I’m not gonna like, follow her follow her, but I’m probably gonna find out where she goes. She’s probably just addicted to scratch tickets and going to get some from the gas station,” he said as they approached the traffic light to go toward town.
Town, including the restaurants and grocery store where Paul was going, was to the right. Left through the light would take you to Kent, which was just old houses and farms.
“Oooh, we’re coming up to the light. Which way is she gonna go?” Paul said.
“Oooh, I don’t know,” Emma said, mimicking his sarcastic tone.
Paul signaled right just as the woman, to Paul’s surprise, signaled left.
“Hey, she’s going to Kent,” he said.
“Maybe she knows somebody out there.”
“But why would she go at all hours of the day and night?”
“Maybe she’s got a secret lover,” Emma joked.
“But she leaves when the guy is home too!” Paul said as they slowed to the red light.
“I don’t know, maybe he’s cool with it.”
“Yeah… maybe… But I doubt she’s going to bang her super-not-so-secret boyfriend twenty times a day!”
“You never know!” Emma said. The light turned green.
“No… you don’t,” said Paul, switching his signal to the left. Now he was in it. He had to know. “I’m gonna keep following her.”
“Paul! Don’t! She’s gonna call the cops or something.”
“She’s not going to call the cops,” Paul said, passing the sign for Kent. “And besides, it’s not like I have no business over here. If somebody says something, I’ll just say I was on my way to Ted’s.” Ted was Paul’s friend from work and occasionally he and Emma would go there for drinks.
“She probably doesn’t go to Kent all the time,” Emma said.
Paul rounded the corner where River Road turned into Route 315 and the speed increased. Paul let the neighbour create a gap between them; he didn’t want to be too conspicuous.
“Maybe not, but still! Where she goes will be a piece of the puzzle that is this woman’s weird life. Oh, she’s turning into Miller’s Trail!”
Miller’s Trail was the unofficial name of a wooded area with a stream that ran through it. People liked to walk there and Paul and Emma took Stella there occasionally.
“Don’t follow her in there!”
“I won’t, I won’t. I’m going to turn around and go get supper.” Paul said as he drove by the entrance for the trail.
“Ok. Thank you. I’m just stopping for gas then I’ll see you at home. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Paul said as he turned into one of the side streets to turn around.
“Bye,” Emma said before hanging up. Paul completed his U-turn and turned back into the 315. Ok, so she goes to Miller’s trail. At least some of the time anyway, he thought as he approached the trail’s entrance again. But the woman’s SUV wasn’t there. That’s weird, he thought as he drove by, craning his neck. Where’d she go?
That’s when he saw the light reflect off of something hidden in the bushes. What the fuck? he thought. She hid her car? Did she do that all the time? Had they been there at the same as her and just never crossed paths? Did she ever cross paths with anyone? He took a deep breath.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Paul pulled into the nearest driveway, backed out, threw the car into drive, and raced back to the entrance as quickly as he could.
The main trail was a large loop and you could go left or right at the beginning. No matter which way you chose at the start, there was a large hill you had to walk up that had been mostly cleared. The stream skirted around it and passed underneath the 315. If Paul was fast, he might be able to see which direction she walked.
He pulled into the parking lot and jumped out, running to the fork in the trail at the bottom of the hill. His eyes darted back and forth between the paths, looking for signs of movement.
On the left trail, he saw a flash of movement disappear over the top of the hill. He started up the trail after her but stopped. What am I doing? He thought. This is a little too intense. You’re going off the rails here.
He turned to go back to his car when his eyes happened to settle on the hidden SUV and he stopped. He couldn’t help but wonder again at how many times they’d been there while she was somewhere in the woods. And why did she hide the car? In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Fuck it,” Paul said as he turned back toward the trail she’d taken. Emma would be mad at him, but the curiosity was overwhelming. “Curiosity killed the cat,” popped into his head. And satisfaction brought it back, he thought.
He jogged up the hill as quietly as he could. But, when he reached the top, she was gone. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. He started down the trail, walking fast. He decided that he would walk for a few hundred feet and if he didn’t find her, he would turn back.
He was scanning his surroundings but didn’t see anything. He was about to turn back when he saw it in the mud. A fresh footprint heading into the woods. It had to be her.
He started into the woods in the direction of the footprint, his mind racing to think of an excuse if he was confronted. He felt compelled to know what she was doing, possessed by the mystery. Satisfaction brought it back.
He wove through the woods toward the stream, careful not to make too much noise on the leaves underfoot.
Paul stepped around a tree and there she was, standing stock still at the edge of the stream, about sixty feet away. He couldn’t see her face, just her blond hair tied back in a ponytail. He ducked behind a tree. Fuck, I didn’t see her in time. There’s no way she didn’t hear me, he thought.
But he didn’t hear anything. He peeked around the tree. She hadn’t moved. She was still standing there, exactly as she had been when Paul first saw her. Then something dawned on him. If she doesn’t know I’m here now, she’s gonna when she’s finished doing whatever she’s doing and leaves. Now what?
The woman jerked and made Paul flinch. Then she jerked again. She doubled over as if in pain and it looked like she was heaving, like she was about to puke. What the fuck am I watching?
The woman snapped back to the position she’d been in, standing perfectly still. But now, something was moving in front of her, it was pink and wiggling. What the fuck is that?
Then a chill rolled down his spine and his body prickled with realization.
It was a tentacle, or at least that’s what it looked like. And it wasn’t pink. It was white and coated with blood. It was coming out of the woman’s mouth.
Paul’s hand shot up to his mouth as the woman doubled over again and the tentacle writhed towards the ground, stretching and reaching. It slapped against the ground, leaves, and dirt sticking to the wet probing limb. The only sound in the woods other than the stream was the sound of the rustling leaves.
As the tentacle revealed more of itself, he could see it growing thicker and it was being coated with more, darker blood.
The woman’s body began to jerk and twist. She turned sideways so that Paul could see some of her face. Her mouth was stretched to the limit like a snake swallowing something too big.
Paul’s legs grew weak and he sank to the ground, watching the grotesque display. His stomach protested, threatening to vomit, but he forced it back.
His neighbour’s mouth began to tear at the edges, like a Glasgow smile and blood began to run, dripping onto the ground in a growing stream. Like a seam ripping, her cheek tore to the edges of her jaw and the tip of a second probing tentacle emerged from her cheek.
Paul began to hyperventilate as the woman stood up again, her nails digging at the tear in her cheek. The fingers seemed to find their mark in the tear and began to pull, allowing the tentacles more room to wriggle.
Her hand pulled harder and harder, and blood spurted and gushed while the tentacles writhed and groped for something to grab onto.
The woman’s stance finally broke and she stumbled, her torso twisting and spraying blood across the leaf-covered ground.
She slammed hard into a small tree and the first tentacle wrapped itself tightly around. Paul couldn’t help but start to scream at the horror in front of him. Whatever was in there, was trying to pull itself out.
There was a squelching crack and the woman’s head burst open with a fountain of blood, the top half of her skull hanging on by skin and tissue. It lolled against her shoulder, revealing the tips of more blood-covered tentacles. Paul wanted to run, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen with fear.
The tentacles squirmed. They slid out of the opening, one by one, and managed to wrap themselves around the tree.
Paul watched them flex with effort and the tree began to bend with the weight. The woman’s body seemed to be fighting to stay upright.
The tentacles began to swing the body violently, trying to free whatever was still in the body.
!!! KAAAARCH-ELSSSSHHHHH !!!
The woman’s body bifurcated. The entire mass crumpled to the ground into a pile of flesh and guts, blood running down the bank and into the stream.
There was silence for a few seconds before Paul vomited. He looked up at the destroyed body and saw something writhing in the gore. Something white.
The tentacles began to reach across the ground and pull themselves slowly out of what was left of the woman’s body, writhing against the dry rasp of leaves. The tentacles were dragging a large white mass behind it like an Octopus.
It stopped at the edge of the bank and turned. Paul couldn’t see its eyes, but he could feel them on him. It stared at him for a few moments before the white, octopus-like mass, slipped into the stream. Paul slowly got to his feet, staring at the spot where the thing disappeared.
The stream began to ripple. Something started rising out of it where the thing had gone under, water running off of it. Paul thought it looked like the top of a sea anemone, with fleshy white fronds standing at attention. It continued to rise out of the water, the fronds tapering into a white stalk, about as thick as a tree.
Paul began to back away as it continued to reach out of the stream. Ten feet. Fifteen. Twenty. Paul started to scream and turned to run out of the woods. He had to tell Emma. He had to contact the police. The military. Anybody.
He made it out of the woods and back onto the trail and began to sprint back to the car. Paul couldn’t help but look over his shoulder. He stopped in fear and awe, trying to catch his breath. The anemone-like thing had stopped rising. Now it towered above the trees.
After a few moments, the fronds began to vibrate and the air above them began to wave, like heat coming off asphalt on a hot day. A throbbing, low, menacing whistle filled the air. Dark clouds took shape above the thing at incredible speed and billowed away. It looked like those time-lapses of a storm forming.
Paul, terrified, heard his phone begin to blare in his pocket over the pulsing whistle. It was an alert. He pulled it out with shaking hands.
SPECIAL WEATHER STATEMENT: SEVERE STORM AND TORRENTIAL RAIN IMMINENT. SEEK SHELTER
He tried to call Emma, but there was no service. He looked skyward. There was nothing but dark, ominous clouds as far as he could see. They burst open and rain began to fall in torrential sheets. It would never stop raining.
* * *
“For God’s sake Paul, WE HAVE TO GO! PLEASE!” Emma sobbed as she stood at the door, holding Stella in her arms. The car was packed. They only had three-quarters of a tank and a jerry canful, but it would have to do.
“I know, I’m ready,” Paul said with a sob as he took one last look around the house for anything they might need.
Paul had told Emma what he’d seen, that there were probably thousands of them living inside humans and who knows how many more of those anemone things. She was speechless when he told her the story, but she believed him. No one else believed though. He thought if they acted fast enough, maybe they could stop whatever those things were.
Paul told Emma how he thought they’d been here for a long time, growing whatever those rain-making anemones were, biding their time. He went to the police but they told him to take his conspiracy theories elsewhere; they had a natural disaster on their hands. He didn’t know how to contact the military.
It had been raining for two days straight. Before the power went out and their phones died, they had learned it was raining over every square inch of the planet, confirming Paul’s theory. Those things were everywhere. It never would stop raining on Earth.
Paul opened the door, and they rushed out into the rain. They weren’t even sure where they would go; most of the roads around them were submerged in rushing flood waters or washed away entirely. But they had to try.
They ran through the ankle-deep water to their car. They backed out of the driveway and looked at their house for the last time. They both turned to look at their neighbour’s house across the street. The man’s car was still there. How many times did we wonder? they both thought before driving away.
James Webb Just Released the CLEAREST Image of Proxima B!
Pictures




































































Man Changes Identity And Disappears On Cheating Fiancee After Learning That All 3 Kids Are Not His
Crazy crazy crazy story.
Sir Whiskerton and the Burp Heard ‘Round the Farm: A Lesson in Manners, Mayhem, and the Power of Beans
Act I: The Feast Before the Storm
The farmer had outdone himself for this year’s Annual Bean Bonanza. Long tables groaned under:
-
Baked beans (swimming in molasses)
-
Bean salads (with questionable rainbow sprinkles)
-
Chef Remy’s infamous “Triple-Bean Tango Surprise” (which wiggled ominously)
Bessie the Cow, her mood ring glowing “HUNGRY,” piled her plate high. “Like, wow man… bean energy is real energy,” she mused, swallowing a third helping.
Sir Whiskerton, ever the diplomat, nibbled daintily on a single green bean. “Moderation, Bessie. Remember the Great Gas Incident of ’22?”
Too late. A fateful gurgle echoed from Bessie’s general direction.
Act II: The Burpocalypse
“UUUUUUURRRRRP—”
The soundwave hit like a hay-bale tsunami:
-
Sir Whiskerton went airborne, tail spinning like a helicopter.
-
The picnic table flipped, launching Doris the Hen into a tree.
-
Fence posts toppled like dominoes, spelling “HELP” in the dirt.
Bessie, blinking: “Excuse—urp—me! 打嗝了! (Dǎgé le!)”
Porkchop, applauding: “That was art. Brutal, loud art.”
Act III: The Manners Intervention
As the farm recovered, Sir Whiskerton convened an Emergency Etiquette Summit under the “Burp-O-Meter” (a.k.a. the wobbly weathervane).
“Let’s discuss when burping is acceptable,” he began, wiping bean sauce from his whiskers.
Ditto the Kitten: “After dinner! Like this—urp—oops.”
Lucifer the Chipmunk: “During my dramatic monologues! For emphasis!”
Gertrude the Goose: “NEVER. Ever. Unless it’s me.”
Sir Whiskerton sighed. “The answer is: only in emergencies, with excuse me, and never after three plates of beans.”
Bessie, scribbling notes: “So like… one plate. Got it.”
Act IV: Peace (and Peppermints) Restored
That evening, the farmer served a bean-free salad buffet. The animals ate in nervous silence, eyeing Bessie.
Suddenly—
“YODEL-ay-hee—” (The Fish, from the pond)
Everyone: “NO BEANS, NO BURPS!”
Bessie just smiled, popping a mint. “Chillax, dudes. I’m evolving.”
Moral
Good manners make good neighbors—especially when digestion is involved.
The End (and the farmer’s secret bean stash remains LOCKED.)
Iran just shocked the world…Dimona and Arad nuclear tunnels obliterated in 2 hours – OPTM
Wow!
Bye Bye Israel nuclear weapons.
Lysar’s Report
Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“
Ralph Aldrich
Lyzar informs his men upon his return, “We’ll search for Manama in the morning as it is too dark and the forest is too dense.” Then, turning to Thea, he commands, “I want you to inform HQ what happened and notify them of our plan. Meanwhile, let’s reinforce our security boundaries, say about another fifty feet further out. Set them to alarm us if anything weighing about one hundred and fifty pounds crosses their beams.”
At about four a.m.the shrill sound of the alarm has everyone leaping from their sleeping sacks to rush to the monitor to see what’s going on. Unfortunately, the monitor does not have a video screen but instead shows a white dot like a radar monitor.
“ It’s probably a grizzly bear,” Lysar says while indicating where the monitor shows the weight to be over eight hundred pounds. No sooner has he said this than the dot disappears from the screen.
Pvt Thea announces in a controlled and professional manner, “The intruder has destroyed marker seven and is approaching marker three. It appears to be heading our way, Sir.”
Oloo grabs his rifle and attaches a night vision scope to it. “I’ll see if I can spot it and drive it away.”
Oloo appears as a white dot near the bottom of the screen, and everyone watches with anticipation as the bear approaches. Usir, sitting on his cot by the side of the tent, jumps a little when the first report of the rifle sounds, bumping his head against the canvas. Oloo fires twice more, and the dot representing the bear disappears.
“Was it a grizzle?” Lysar asks as Oloo reenters the tent. Oloo seems confused and replies, “I don’t think so, Sir.”
“What do you mean you don’t think so? Explain yourself.” Lysar commands.
“It was standing on its hind legs when I saw it through my scope. It looked covered in fur, so I thought it was a bear. But then I noticed that its face was all wrong, the shape of its eyes, and it didn’t have a muzzle. Also, the shape of its body, a bear’s body is thick, but this one seemed to taper in, like a waist. Finally, it didn’t drop down to all fours after firing my shots but ran away like a man, Sir.” While Lysar contemplates this news, everyone is startled by the sound of ripping canvas and Usir’s scream of pain. A large and bloody bolder rolls to Lysar’s feet. Thea presses two fingers to Usir’s neck and then reports to the lieutenant, “He’s dead, Sir.”
Oloo roars. “What in the blue blazers is going on here? Are they using catapults now?”
Lysar tells Thais to grab his handheld communication device and for everyone to go outside. “I don’t like being a sitting duck.”
Once out in the open, he tells Thais to contact HQ and inform them that they are under attack and will need reinforcements and immediate extraction from this location. The forest at night is pitch black due to the thick canopy overhead. The group can’t see a thing without their flashlights, and Lysar notices it is unusually quiet. Having reached HQ, Thais continues to explain their situation.
“That’s correct, Sir. We’re under attack and have already lost two troopers, Manama and Usir. I’m sorry, but I can’t describe the attackers, but Sargent Oloo has seen one through his night vision telescope. I’ll hand you over to him, Sir. Sgt. Oloo, it’s Post Commander Mead.” Thea informs Oloo as he hands him the communicator.
“Oloo here, Sir,” he says as he turns to face Lt Laysar. “I could only see what appeared to be some creature through the night vision scope. That’s correct, Sir. I said, a creature. I determined that it stands at least nine feet tall and is covered in hair. The creature looks humanoid in stature and has intelligent-looking eyes. It also has a strong musky smell as well. I truly don’t know what to make of it, Sir, except that I’m positive it is out to kill us all.”
The commander responds, “Thank you, Sargent. I’ll have someone investigate our data resources to see if there is any information on this beast. In the meantime, the gyrocopter should be arriving in about fifteen minutes. Set out some flares for it so they can find you faster. I’ll get back to you with any information I find as soon as possible.”
Hearing the snapping of a twig, Laysar and Oloo turn just in time to see Thea being lifted off his feet by a big hairy hand and then rushed off into the woods. Oloo raised his rifle but didn’t dare to shoot for fear of hitting Thea. The last thing he saw through his scope was Thea’s terrified eyes, and then he was gone. A few moments later, the forest was full of Thea’s screams of agony and horror. A pale Oloo turns to his leader as to what to do.
“Let’s quickly get those flares going and stand back to back in the middle of the circle. Then, we can look in all directions until the copter arrives.”
Standing at the ready, Lysar responds to the communicator that has just cracked to life.
“Lysar,” Mead announces, “We’ve found some interesting facts about that thing you’ve encountered. Going back to the area’s first people, they had a folk tale about an apelike being living in those woods. Since then, other adventurers have been trying to capture or at least get a good picture of it as proof of its existence. But unfortunately, the creature appears to be very elusive. The Native Americans called it, let’s see if I can pronounce it, Sa-Sasquatch, meaning wild man.”
Without warning, a stone about the size of a baseball comes hurling at high speed from the woods, hitting Oloo in the face. Oloo crumbles to the ground, dead.
A startled Lysar drops the communicator and slowly retreats from the center of the flares. Standing just opposite him is the giant beast he now knows as Sasquatch. Its fierce eyes flash in the light of the flickering flames as saliva drips from his gaping mouth, revealing two prominent canine teeth. Lysar’s head is filled with Thea’s terrified and tortured screams, and he lifts the pistol to his temple as the communicator continues to bark out Post Commander Mead’s demands.
“Lysar, are you there? Report! Lysar, what is happening? For God’s sake, man, report!” The only sound heard through the speaker is the sharp report of a pistol being fired.
The sasquatch steps forward, looks down on the communicator, and then crushes it beneath his huge foot. The sound of the gyrocopter gets his attention as it approaches from the west. What passes for a smile appears on his gruesome face as he slowly backs into the dark forest to wait.
Italian Chicken and Noodles
This quick and easy one-pot meal is a lifesaver on busy weeknights. Full of antioxidants and rich flavor, it is sure to spread smiles all around.

Prep: 5 min | Cook: 15 min | Yield: 4 servings
Ingredients
- 1 (14.5 ounce) can Del Monte® Diced Tomatoes with Basil,Garlic and Oregano-No Salt Added
- 1 (14.5 ounce) can College Inn® Chicken Broth with Roasted Vegetables & Herbs
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2-inch strips
- 2 cups (about 8 ounces) sliced mushrooms
- 1 teaspoon dried basil leaves
- 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
- 1/2 cup white wine or water
- 4 cups uncooked dried medium egg noodles
- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
- Salt (optional)
- Pepper (optional)
Instructions
- Cook chicken, garlic, mushrooms and basil in oil in large saucepan over high heat 4 minutes, stirring frequently.
- Add undrained tomatoes, broth and wine; bring to boil.
- Stir in noodles; cook, uncovered, over medium heat 6 to 7 minutes until chicken is done and noodles are tender and liquid is absorbed, stirring once.
- Stir in cheese and season with salt and pepper, if desired.
Attribution
Recipe and photo used with permission from: Del Monte
DON’T GIVE UP – Motivational Speech
Play this LOUD.
