Casualties of Cooking
Because I am such a wonderful housewife* (*see definition of irony below) I found myself in the kitchen today cooking the mind-blowingly delicious Cream of Chicken and Wild Rice soup recipe which you can find below. Anyway, since I realize that most of you are like me and will be too lazy to click on that link, I’ll tell you that the recipe involves a whole chicken, cut up. I bought a store brand cut-up chicken (which, like store brand graham crackers, is smaller, tougher, and uses corn syrup instead of honey) and lo and behold, when I cracked open the package I found that they had even included the chicken innards, tidily tucked beneath a disembodied wing.
I thought to myself, “This will make a nice snack for my dog. It will make her coat lustrous and healthy.”
Still in my philanthropic Purina mode, I plopped that liver on a plate and stuck it in my microwave. Punched in one minute. It only took 23 seconds for the first exploding pop to sound. Barely had I time to raise my eyebrows (only a little, I mean, it was only a chicken liver) when the second explosion occurred. I ordered the microwave to cease cooking and opened the door.
Oh, I was not prepared for the gruesome battlefield within. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the foresight to take a photograph of the gory panorama for you, my reader, before I removed the liver. However, I shall paint a skilled word-picture for you.
That said, despite the thin coating of liver all over the inside of my microwave, the liver itself was still intact upon the plate. A miracle, obviously. I was unprepared to accept the responsibility that belief in such a miracle entailed, however, so I threw the liver into the trash. It was, I should add, still uncooked. It languished at the top of the trash, starting to ooze eerily after about three minutes. Once again, I should’ve taken a photograph – I don’t know where my mind was. Clearly this was a lost prop from a Chuckie movie and quite valuable. Had I gotten to my husband before he tied the trash bag shut, I would’ve sold it on eBay.
In short, it was an entertaining experience that I would recommend to anyone who has 14 paper towels and plenty of cleaner. Notwithstanding the dirty chicken smell that is now permeating my kitchen.
And on that note, happy cooking.
Links for this blog:
The definition of irony
Amazing splendiferous recipe for Cream of Chicken with Wild Rice
An absolutely disgusting photograph of a chicken liver