Eating Concrete

So so results with my first try, but I was undaunted. “Laugh at me if you will,” I muttered to myself, thumbing through the pages of Carlean’s book, “I will indeed create something that I will enjoy eating!”

There, on the very same page, a seemingly inviting recipe, “Golden Chicken and Mushrooms.”

4 to 6 chicken breast halves
1 large onion, thinly sliced
4-5 medium potatoes, cut into one inch thick chunks
1 can (10 3/4 oz) condensed golden mushroom soup

Add onion to sprayed slow cooker. Top with potatoes then chicken. Stir soup and spoon over the chicken. Cover and cook on low 7-8 hours.

Another Sunday cooking day. Since this one actually required some advance preparation, I had higher hopes. Onion diced, potatoes sliced into one inch thick disks, I stirred it all in and began my wait.

Eight hours later, it smelled pretty good. I tried it. Kinda bland. Potatoes were rather gluey. Had I not cut the potato small enough?

I refrigerated the rest, little realizing that it would shortly congeal into a tasteless rubbery mass with the consistency of concrete.

But-I had made it. So I would it eat it. Until it was all gone. My Moroccan girlfriend, Hasnae, begged me, “Je te prie cherie, ne mange pas cela!” (Please darling, don’t eat it!) But somehow, I had a compulsion to take my evil spawn back into myself, for after all, had I not created it? Some bizarre loyalty to myself as a cook took over. So after the fourth day and my final spoonful of the brownish glop, I heaved a massive sigh of relief and thought hard about whether Ms. Carlean truly offered the right path to cooking nirvana.

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