My mother-in-law purchased us a couple of chickens from the Hutterites. We threw them in the freezer and never thought of them again. That is, until I decided to make one for supper. Around 3:30pm, The Guy reminded me that I should be throwing one in the oven.
I realized that the chicken was frozen. Panicked, I looked on the Internet to find out what I needed to do to cook it. I've made a turkey before, but it had instructions on it and my Grandma was there. I looked it up though, and was sure I could do it. I mean, how hard could it be?
WHY DO I NEVER LEARN??????
I put the chicken in. I cooked it the time it told me too. I used a MEAT THERMOMETER. I was serious. It should have been perfect. The Internet told me it would be.
I cut into it. It bled. I thought maybe it was just chicken juice - but no, it was blood. At this point, it was an hour after I was ready to eat. In desperation, I tore the skin off and ate it. The Guy doesn't like it any way and I figured that I likely couldn't get salmonella from the skin. I contemplated either throwing it in the microwave or throwing caution to the wind and sticking the entire thing in my mouth. I couldn't figure out what to do. I put it back in.
I took it out again. Used the meat thermometer again. It was supposed to be done.
It wasn't. I threw the damn bird back in. Finally, I ate the potatoes and veggies. I pouted. An hour and a half later, it was almost done. The Guy had broken down and poured himself a bowl of cereal. I put the finally cooked chicken into a container and threw it in the fridge. I couldn't make myself eat it.
We'll have leftovers for the week which is good, but it is going to be hard to make myself eat it.
Stupid effing chicken.