Monday, August 10

Eet Mor Chiken!

My idea. Plan out an entire work week's menu for meals. Great, right?

That way there's no 'come home from work, berate the cabinets for ideas for dinner, wait an hour while something comes to fruition (if we haven't succumbed to eating out), eat, realize it's late, watch 2 episodes of Coach, fall asleep.'

So tonight was Crockpot Chicken. It's this secret family recipe which includes chicken, Campbell's Cream of Celery soup, and a crockpot. Mad science, I tell ya.

Anyway, so last night I had taken out 6 chicken tits (my mom loves when I call them that) out of the freezer to thaw overnight. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

Come this morning, they were nice and thawed on the counter but had left a little puddle o' chicken juice beneath them. No biggie. Move bag to fridge. Wipe up mess. Spray counter with disinfectant. Good as new.

So come this afternoon, wook got home later than expected but still early enough to start he does. Stellar guy, right? And for him to follow one of the Favorite Family Recipes, and not concoct some out-of-this-world meal plan, is a pretty cool step. I mean the boy can make just about anything. From scratch. He may look at a recipe to make sure he didn't miss an ingredient. But unlike how I meticulously dwell over recipes like I'm a monk copying hieroglyphic code, he throws caution to the wind and creates perfection on a plate. Jealous.

So I get home from work. The usual. Just past 6pm. Walk in. No one here. Wook must be at the gym. 15 minutes later, he returns. Sweaty. From both working out and walking the block home (today: 95, according to it "felt" like 105!).

I don't know how we got on topic, but he said he had the Crockpot on High and had turned it to Low before he went to work out.

"Why was it on High?"

"Cuz the chicken was frozen."

Turns out he didn't notice me taking out chicken last night. Contemplating 6 pieces or 8 pieces. Putting it in a gallon ziplock. Didn't see it on the counter, thawing. Not before going to bed. Not in the morning after making coffee. No chicken. No ziploc. Not even the pink-ish flesh in a ziploc that stared back at you from inside the fridge.

So now we have 6 well-thawed pieces of chicken.

Next time: Mrs Wookie, leave a note on the counter detailing the steps you've already established within the dinner routine. This will make it easier on both parties. But we like how you've thought ahead in how to use the already-thawed chicken to your advantage.

On the menu for tomorrow evening: chile chicken enchiladas, black beans, and a veggie (not sure what yet). And Wednesday's: blackened chicken salads (w/ fixin's).

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