August 14, 2014

The Great Dinner Depression

Anyone who knows me also knows that mornings aren't my thing. Although I do like to get up early because I hate wasting daylight, I am more often than not: disgruntled, disorganized and disoriented...until at least my second cup of coffee.

Moving into the new house has only made my mornings more frustrating. I have trouble locating things (we haven't totally unpacked yet) and I have so many on-going projects that my commute to the kitchen is often comparable to a dash through a ROC Race. 

[Side note: If you've never heard of one, the "ROC Race", also known as the "Ridiculous Obstacle Challenge" is a 5K held at various locations throughout the country. I haven't personally done one yet, but Matt did and said it was a blast. You can check out dates and locations by clicking here. But even if 5Ks aren't your thing, you get the picture.]

So color me thrilled the other day when I not only remembered to defrost chicken for dinner, but also to put it into the crock pot and to turn the crock pot on. I had prepared very fancy southern BBQ chicken for supper. My recipe goes something like this:

Crock Pot BBQ Chicken


  • Boneless, skinless chicken breasts (1 breast per person)
  • Barbecue sauce of choice (I used the Jack Daniels kind)
WHEW. Watch out, Rachel Ray. This is serious cooking business.


  • Place chicken in the crock pot.
  • Pour some bbq sauce on the chicken.
  • Flip the chicken around with a fork until completely coated or until you're tired of doing it. Add a little extra sauce for good measure. 
  • Turn crock pot on low (in this case for 8-10 hours).
It's a complicated process. I'm a complicated person. Perhaps some would call me Top Chef? Get on my level.

Clearly this is not a complex dinner prep. Matt is a bit of a picky eater, so I try to keep things simple and somewhat healthy whenever possible. We make it work.

You know that smell... the barbecue one? That smokey deliciousness that lingers in the air after a piece of meat has been slow roasted all day? It's a smell that pleases me immensely and one that reminds me why I love summer so, so much. The very thought of coming home to some sticky, barbecue slathered chicken made my mouth water. So imagine my surprise when I walked into the house after work on Monday and it stunk. Awful. Not kidding. Really terrible. Like something had died

I thought maybe the chicken had burnt? Did I not put in enough BBQ sauce? What could have happened? Did someone break in and steal the crock pot while we were working? Is the kitchen aflame? WHERE ARE THE CATS? (FYI: They're in their respective bedrooms. They get separated during the day because Rocket is too little to be running free and also because we have yet to get him tested for FIV. Don't panic - we're getting him checked, but he's only 8 weeks old and we want an accurate test. We're responsible cat-parents.)

Luckily, the cats were fine, the kitchen was flame-less, the crock pot was still plugged into the wall and there was no sign of smoke. At this point, I walked over and peered inside. I was momentarily stunned and gazed awkwardly downward onto the glass top of what was supposed to be crock pot glory. Inside sat the saddest sight I've ever seen.

Totally raw, uncooked chicken, with a pathetic dripping of some dried sauce sitting in the pot on the warm counter. For ten hours.

Insert enormously exasperated sigh here

While I had, in fact, taken all the appropriate steps to guarantee that dinner would be ready and hassle free, I failed to check the "reset" button on the outlet. The crock pot never even started to heat up. #newhousefail

So we improvised. 

Mmmm. Mexican. 
'Til Next Time... 


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