While my husband’s away playing out his childhood fantasy of pond hockey, I determined to feed my children real food, not macky cheese or frozen pizza. I defrosted a pack of chicken yesterday and successfully searched for a scrumptious corn-flakes-fried-chicken-cooked-in-the-oven recipe. My mouth waters thinking of the first crunchy bite, which hasn’t happened yet, and it’s 8:34 p.m.
10:30 a.m. After discovering the tempting recipe, I decided to double the batch so I wouldn’t have to cook again for 3 days. Out of the freezer came the twin brother of the pack of chicken that is thawed in the fridge. I set them both on the counter….. and then my sister called and I went upstairs to chat. We solved most of the world’s problems in that single phone call. Then I washed my hair and tried a new straight style. Then I sorted through magazine pages of shabby-chic girly bedrooms for my friend who was coming to borrow them. Then I crossed the street to talk to my brother.
1:30 p.m. Holy Smokes! It was time to leave for my son’s hockey game…. and I discovered the packs of chicken on the counter. Shoot. I put the thawed pack back in the fridge and even though I know all the warnings about salmonella poisoning from defrosting chicken on the counter….. we haven’t died yet….. so the half-frozen pack stayed put. (Please don’t email me warnings… or horror stories.)
The hockey game surpassed my greatest hopes with a 4-0 shut out…….. and Austin scored a HAT TRICK! Woooo Hoooo! (That is three goals in one game, for those non-hockey readers.) Makes a mama proud!
5:30 p.m. I arrived home from the amazing game to find the thawed chicken on the counter. Oh, yeah, I was going to make corn-flakes-fried-chicken-baked-in-the-oven. (Warning: my first senior moment occurred next.) I went to the fridge to retrieve the originally thawed pack of chicken that was not growing salmonella organisms… but it had vanished. Now it was a rather bulky, bright yellow, sixteen inch long pack of chicken. Should be easy to spot, you’d think. Upon deeper investigation, I found it back in the freezer, now frozen a second time. Is this what it’s like growing old??? I was back to square one with one thawed pack and its twin frozen…… again. Eventually, I did get it in the oven.
The moral of the story is, if you want to know how the chicken crossed the kitchen, don’t ask me. I can’t remember.