Saturday night is my favorite night of the week to stay in. All the douchebags are out and about, crowding up restaurants and bars. It's the one night I can actually find an available washing machine in my apartment building’s laundry room. And because I have the day off work, I can leisurely grocery-shop (the Met Foods is rarely crowded on Saturday) and cook dinner.
This evening, I was kind of feeling a mid-twentieth-century housewife vibe (okay, fine, when am I not?). I was also feeling extremely lazy. So I decided to make this update on those classic grosstastic suburban-mom dishes that involve dumping a can of cream of mushroom soup on some chicken and sticking it in the oven. I figured it would be low-maintenance and hearty. And it was.
However. Gentle reader, what you are about to read may shock you. You see, tonight I defied every principle of Brooklyn foodie-ism to prepare a meal that involved—yes—prepackaged, additive-addled food products. Luckily, if your body is a temple of loca-eco-susta-whateverability, you can easily skip said ingredients.
Adding to the prefab-food shame, I served this with (frozen White Rose brand) peas tossed in garlic butter with chives and—gasp!—Rice-a-Roni, chicken flavor.
Yes, I know you're scandalized. ("How can she call herself a food blogger?") And you could of course serve the veggies and rice or whole grain of your choice; this would also be good with egg noodles. But look, once in a while we all need a little bit of good old-fashioned American artificiality in our lives!
"All the douchebags are out and about, crowding up restaurants and bars."
ReplyDeleteHey, I was out Saturday night!
Oh, wait, point illustrated.
Gene, I would think you of all people would note the logical fallacy here. If all the douchebags are out, that does not mean that everyone who is out is a douchebag. (Unless they're from Jersey; that is a sufficient, though not necessary, condition of being a douchebag.)
ReplyDelete