Normally, I dislike chicken. Really, really, really dislike it. In fact, I typically compare food I find extremely bland to chicken.
But during the past week or so, I've been experiencing these intense cravings for meat. (So bizarre -- usually I lust after bean burritos or French fries or Indian food, never meat. Maybe it's all the running?) And I find myself fantasizing about salami and pulled pork and bratwurst and bacon and ...
Chicken.
I know, right? Maybe I am losing my mind. But last week I went out of my way to buy ground chicken (and did I mention ground meat usually sicks me out?) so I could make chicken and lettuce cups. And they were damn good! Which inspired me to go back to the butcher again yesterday for some organic chicken breast.
Which I dipped in buttermilk; rolled in flour, panko, Parmesan and thyme; and put in the oven.
It was a valiant attempt, but unfortunately, I put a little too much flour on, so the outer layer never actually browned the way it was supposed to. This resulted in my leaving the chicken in the oven for too long, and then I got frustrated and put the whole thing in the frying pan just to get the flour browned.
The result? Overcooked chicken. Which reminded me once more why I usually hate chicken and never eat it or attempt to make it.
Still, I guess trying is better than nothing. And it wasn't inedible. (I actually shared some of it with the cats, and they approved wholeheartedly.) And it looked sort of nice on the plate next to the fabulous tomato salad I put together with tomatoes from our employee garden at work. (Nothing quite as wonderful as vine-ripened tomatoes!)
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