The One About Chicken

Sometime in May I was hanging with my friend Leslie who is also a fantastic cook. I did what I usually do at her house. I went through her pantry. It is a fascinating place. I miss having a pantry. I only have cupboards. But a well-stocked pantry gives me a feeling of security. While I was rifling through her crackers and talking about peanut butter, I saw two jars of salsa verde and asked her what she did with it. And my latest addiction was born.

Leslie simply poured the two jars over chicken and cooked it all day in the crock pot. I added chicken rub to it when I decided to do it to spice it up more and I swear that's all I want to eat. I featured it as the recipe of the week a few weeks ago at www.thejaneellen.com. For that I turned it into nachos. I also use it in salads and burritos and wraps and tacos and I could go on. Sometimes I just eat it cold. I'm thinking about it right now.

The funny thing is, I'm the only one in my house who eats it. Jim will eat the nachos, but he picks around the chicken. He is anti-chicken. He has such issues. Now, he'll eat a McNugget, but is that really chicken? I'm not saying they don't taste good, I'm just sayin'.

Jim doesn't like bones. So you can't have drumsticks or wings or anything of that nature. Ever. Well, you can, but then you have to listen to the haranguing. At this point it is much like the droning of insects to me. But still, I can live without it. And even if I cook boneless chicken he will allege that he finds some sort of cartilage or yellowy thing. My sister Judy is the same. Only she will eat chicken.

He won't even go near rotisserie chickens and they taste great. I know, he's missing out. But that means more of this salsa verde chicken for me. I'm telling you, I have yet to tire of it. And I keep thinking of new ways to eat it. And it's even good for me. Gone are the days when I would get fried chicken, which is steeped in delicious I grant you, peel off the skin and fill the skin with mashed potatoes and eat that. OK, I just made myself salivate over that memory. Jim wouldn't eat that either. Skin is too slimy for him. Or something.

Just fix him the same turkey and cheese sandwich at every single meal and he'll be happy. Once in a while I buy thinly-sliced deli chicken to see if he notices the difference. He doesn't, but I'm amused to know that I got him to eat chicken.

It would be so much easier if he would cook for himself. But then he'd be in my way in the kitchen. Which would probably be more annoying in the long run. I can't write anymore. I've got chicken to eat.