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slipjig3I really need to put some actual food in the kitchen. Last night I was faced with the prospect of not wanting to cook, but wanting to be frugal and have something at home. I had the remains of a rotisserie chicken in the fridge, and upon discovering that we did indeed have some mayo left I decided to pursue the chicken salad option. I really should have opened the jar, though: once the remaining chicken had been chopped and gathered in a bowl, I discovered that the mayo had separated into a bilious yellow component and a phlegmatic white component, and I wasn't about to sit around to find out if they could be mixed again. Not exactly what I would call pleasant.
So I was faced with still not wanting to cook, sure as hell not wanting to go to the store (that would have involved pants), not having a lot in the way of ingredients around, and having this bowlful of diced cooked white-meat chicken to dispose of. Dandy. Acknowledging that my options would have been far more copious were I far less lazy, what I eventually ended up with was a bowl of diced cooked white-meat chicken mixed with some Gorgonzola, pine nuts and balsamic vinaigrette. Which I ate. From the bowl. With a fork. It was plenty tasty, understand, but I still felt like someone who had wandered through the kitchen of a chef making something more substantial, and getting handed an ingredient bowl with the instructions, "Here, kill this off, wouldja?"
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Unrelatedly, you still have 24 hours to respond to the Anonymous Sex Confessional, if you are thus inclined. Thank you to everyone who has chimed in so far; it has been very (what's the word?) edifying.
So I was faced with still not wanting to cook, sure as hell not wanting to go to the store (that would have involved pants), not having a lot in the way of ingredients around, and having this bowlful of diced cooked white-meat chicken to dispose of. Dandy. Acknowledging that my options would have been far more copious were I far less lazy, what I eventually ended up with was a bowl of diced cooked white-meat chicken mixed with some Gorgonzola, pine nuts and balsamic vinaigrette. Which I ate. From the bowl. With a fork. It was plenty tasty, understand, but I still felt like someone who had wandered through the kitchen of a chef making something more substantial, and getting handed an ingredient bowl with the instructions, "Here, kill this off, wouldja?"
* * * * *
Unrelatedly, you still have 24 hours to respond to the Anonymous Sex Confessional, if you are thus inclined. Thank you to everyone who has chimed in so far; it has been very (what's the word?) edifying.
