It was eventful.
You see I started out Tuesday on a chicken n'dumplings mission.
I am convinced that my chicken n'dumpling goodness is a cure-all.
The creamy pot of wonder has brought Chuck back to life several times and since Beenie is injured I turned to my old faithful.
Chuck had mentioned wanting me to make it so I thought hey, why don't I just make two batches?
Then we can have a big bowl of pumpkin ice cream!
It was a glorious plan.
So I woke up early Tuesday, smelling like
I then covered the chicken with water, popped the lid on, cranked it up to high(it was a WHOLE chicken after all), and went to work.
I did my normal calf/cat feeding and cow breeding routine, started Beenie's batch of chicken n'dumplings at The Heats house(Note:I did not make my own stock for this one) and went home to check on my hairless wonder bubbling away.
I opened the door to the apartment and it was like I walked into Thanksgiving heaven.
The smell was wrong it was so right.
Beautiful chicken, thyme, andabunchofotherstuff.
I walked toward the kitchen with my eyes closed, breathing in the aroma, turned the light on, looked at the slow cooker and stopped breathing for, like, EVER.
Have I ever mentioned that my slow cooker can reach a heat much like the center of a volcano?
I put it on "high" before I left because,well, it was a WHOLE chicken.
I needed for it to be finished by the time I returned home at lunch, and thought "low and slow" was not a good idea.
It's the pretty sometimes that takes over.
The naked little chicken was pressed against the glass of the lid, which.I.had.latched, as if screaming for help!
This has changed my outlook on hot tubs forever.
Then...THEN I noticed something on the counter...a pool of CHICKEN STOCK was forming as it dripped from the boiling inferno that was my slow cooker.
My cutting board was floating and it had begun to drip onto the floor.
That's when I turned off the light, got my "emergency bag" and moved to Kansas.
I've been there once, it was windy.
No, actually I did what ANY rational male would do...I threw some newspaper over it.
Heh..OK I cleaned it up.
And...letmejusttellyou, chicken stock is GREASY. .Don't go running through a kitchen with socks on after a chicken spill of that proportion.
Unless you have a "life alert" then by all means, knock yourself out.
The good news was the chicken was cooked perfectly...and that's about it.
I busted out the Clorox and scrubbed, which resulted in my kitchen smelling like bleachy-chicken. Yum.
I left for work, after finishing my chicken n'dumplings and setting the dial to "LOW" and immediately sent Chuck a text which said, "No! I most certainly DID NOT just flood the kitchen with chicken stock! HOW DARE you accuse me of such. I love you".
He tolerates me.
Upon returning to work, I went to The Heats, finished Beenie's batch, then I dehorned a bunch of calves...that's where the "burnt hair" comes into play.
I finally made it home that evening with me somewhere under the chicken stock on my hands, sleeves and socks, and the lingering smell of burnt hair which had soaked into my skin.
I figured my sense of smell was shot anyway, so I fried some bacon and made these....
Browned butter, bacon, chocolate chip cookies.(So good people).
Which we had with zeeeeessss....
Pumpkin Ice Cream(like a cold bowl of Pumpkin pie).
After eating a big bowl of this...
chicken n'dumplings(in my NEW Fiestaware bowl thanks to Beenie!).
I played it safe and didn't cook anything yesterday.