I have to admit I've never understood the popularity of the "Sunday brunch" at otherwise decent restaurants—the lines are ridiculous, the food often subpar, and you know as well as me the waitstaff have plenty of better things to do (like nurse their own hangover). My indifference to this cultural phenomenon doesn't mean I don't love a pile of pancakes and a fried egg or two; it's just that I prefer them from the comfort of my own home.
“Ranch Chicken”—ha! What a recipe name. The truth is, this dish doesn’t even have an official name. I just make it. Then I serve it to hungry men so I can hear them moan and…