Some things in life are “worth it” and others are not. Jumping through hoops and hurdles to get what you want in life is “worth it”. The experience that I went through for this recipe is not “worth it”. In fact, it’s completely “worthless”.
Let’s start with things that I know could have been improved upon and therefore, can only be blamed on myself.
1) The chicken was not completely thawed when I started cooking. I forgot to take it out of the freezer the night prior.
Because of that, I proceeded to thaw the chicken in the kitchen sink under a sea of water from the tap. If anyone can remember the most disgusting thing from his or her childhood, it would be the kitchen sink. We didn’t have a dishwasher when I was growing up. Correction: We did. It was my Mom. As I grew older, I acquired more household responsibilities. One of which was washing the dishes. Prior to that, I spent many an evening sitting at the kitchen table watching my Mom clean up after dinner. Everything was fine until all of the dishes were washed and the solid remains of dinner were left in the drain. Note: We didn’t have a garbage disposal either. For those who can relate to this, you know what memory I’m about to delve into. I’m trying not to gag as I write this. My Mom would reach into the sink, barehanded no less, and grab whatever filth was left in the sink drain then toss it into the trashcan. Disgusting. Absurd. Who in their right mind would do that? Doesn’t she know that the kitchen sink is proven to contain more bacteria than the toilet?! And I, yes, me in my learning curve, used the kitchen sink to thaw out my chicken tonight. I should be handcuffed and placed in the loony bin. My family is surely poisoned. What’s worse is that I didn’t think twice about it. It’s official…. I’m my Mom.
2) a: Attention to details…or lack there of.
This recipe called for oregano and oh boy, did it get oregano. I pulled the dried oregano out of the spice cabinet and unscrewed the lid. Yes, I said, “unscrewed”. I didn’t say, “flipped open the top” like how most large spice/herb containers are opened. I unscrewed the lid and thought, “It’ll just need a little bit”. Before I knew it, I had dumped half of the container into the soup that I was making. Oh yes, I forgot to tell you, I’m making chicken soup. Chicken soup that was boiling hot when I stirred it and an air pocket exploded broth out of the pot and onto my arms, hands, and stomach. I digress. I was now staring into a pot of chicken that was covered with dried oregano. I quickly grab some tongs and ever so carefully pulled out each piece of chicken so as not to disturb the mounds of oregano on top of the pieces. With the tongs, I bring the chicken over to the sink (cringe) and start shaking the chicken. The oregano was not coming off. I shake harder. Still not coming off. So I resort to rinsing off the aromatic herb from my boiling hot chicken under the tap.
2) b: Really?
Somehow during all of this commotion, my eyes shifted to a different recipe that called for acorn squash. The chicken soup recipe called for a side of butternut squash. I know the differences between these two glorious gourds from working in grocery stores for about 5 years of my life, however I pulled out the acorn squash from the refrigerator. It was not until I was realizing how incredibly hard it is to cut acorn squash that my eyes slipped back to the chicken soup recipe which called for *gasp* NOT acorn squash. I decided to just fully commit to completing the acorn squash recipe, a decision that I will regret. Proceed to Exhibit 3.
3) Using equipment that is either out of date or damaged.
I’ve had a set of potholders for years. They are quite nice and made of some kind of rubber that allows you to hold molten lava…or something like that. Well, one of them has had a hole in it for as long as I can remember. The hole is exactly in the spot that one’s finger would need to be to grasp whatever extremely hot concoction needs to be removed from the oven. Normally, I’m very mindful of said hole but for some reason, tonight, I forgot. I was pulling out a glass dish containing acorn squash from a 400-degree oven. I subsequently slammed the dish on the stovetop and began using words that are reserved solely for pirates. Perhaps I wouldn’t have burned myself if I weren’t so preoccupied by Exhibits 1 and 2.
Alas, I finished cooking the soup and that damned acorn squash, sat down, and had a nice, lovely meal with my family. Then my husband ever so quietly says, “I’m not a huge fan of the squash”….