Sometimes I feel so uninspired…(isn’t that a song from the 70s?) when I’m in the kitchen. The countdown to DH’s return from work was on. We had IQF chicken breasts and carrots. (IQF=individually quick frozen) so I defrosted the chicken and chopped the carrots. I had a mental picture of my mom’s delicious chicken and noodles recipe in my head, but I knew I didn’t want to make the noodles; trying to be good and avoid gluten most of the time. As the chicken and carrots simmered in a little water, I seasoned it with sage, (Mom, it smells like Thanksgiving!) and fresh ground pepper and garlic salt. The meal just didn’t excite me.
Enter the can of cream of chicken soup. I thought saucy chicken over rice would taste really good; I love rice. DH, however, detests it. He’s never said that in so many words, but when he when leaves most of it on his plate, I can tell. So I surrendered and made rotini noodles instead.
First of all, “Bob” had two helpings. This is the kid who turns his nose up at virtually every single meal I prepare. Second, “Dale” came in late to dinner. He started eating, and then expostulated, “Mom, you went ham on this chicken.”
I hate having to ask what my kids mean when they talk, but they do attend school in a hotbed of slang vernacular. “What on earth does that mean?” (The chicken doesn’t really taste like ham to me…)
He said, “It means it’s really good.” Then Bob agreed with him. “It means it’s fantastic.”
I would like to bow to the gods of creamed soups now.