Chapter 3: Fowl Aspirations

As I mentioned earlier, today was the day I decided to call in the cavalry since, to be perfectly honest, I was pretty sure I'd screw this one up without help. And I was right..but I'll get to that eventually. Anyway, today's recipe was sauteed chicken with tomatoes and thyme, and luckily Jenn was happy to lend her assistance.

First stop was the grocery store, and while I'm at this part of the tale I might as well take a second to tie up a loose end from my last adventure. It seems the Sobey's guy who told me that my salmon had bones in probably needed my "Dummies" book more than I do, because now I'm quite certain that a fillet has no bones..and that he was an idiot. Also, I should buy fresh salmon, not frozen. Ah well, live and learn...I still blame him, though. Back to the present, we picked up the ingredients and were almost at the counter when I finally saw the price tag on the chicken and suffered what I believe was a mild heart attack. My god, why was this farm fowl so expensive?? Oh well, I just got my tax refund...I can take it.

After we got back to the kitchen and got the ingredients ready, I had to quickly read up on how one goes about cutting an onion. After doing so, I can't help but wonder why people say these things make you cry, cause my eyes were completely dry...even after the financial stress and mental anguish of having to pay for the damn chicken. So, once all the preliminaries had been completed(including us improvising how to de-seed a tomato by tearing it apart), it was on to the main event and I was prepared to put the chicken into the pan. Now, remember when I said I would screw this up on my own? Well, it seems I was unaware that this pricey bird is also capable of spreading around salmonella and likely would've succeeded in this sinister plot if not for my lovely assistant warning me to wash my hands immediately after preparing it. Nice try, chicken...better luck next time.

At this point, things were going quite well, and after 15 minutes or so of watching the chicken sit in the pan and spit olive oil back at me(likely in retribution for catching on to the salmonella plot), I was certain victory was mine. However, it had one more trick up its sleeve...luckily someone(...not me) knew that just because the outside was done, doesn't mean the inside was cooked. If I was alone, you can be damn sure that bird would've had the last laugh and I would've cut into a half-cooked chicken breast and screamed things that would make a lumberjack cry.

In the end, though, things worked out quite well! We ate and enjoyed it, and now I have an actual picture, so this time you won't dream about space clowns after reading my blog. Unless that's what you're in to...if so, go re-read the salmon chapter.