I was feeling like a domestic goddess, as I prepared a cornucopia of nutritious, tasty tid-bits for a meal fit for a king.
Chats, flat mushrooms, red peppers, spanish onion….tossed in olive oil, paprika and seasoned with love.
It would have been delicious too.
Were it not for the abnormally gigantic chicken drumsticks I so foolishly used in this ‘one-pan, classic family favourite’ meal.
I mean, the big part on these drumsticks were the size of my fist. And let’s face it, value is for money is one thing, but freakishly gargantuan chicken is another.
Probably don’t need to mention that they tasted like…well….nothing. They were bland, fibrous and just plain wrong.
Of course the night ended in tears as I begrudgingly scraped the dinner into the garbage bin.
AT had tried to be subtle, and not let on to the kids that they were biting into mutant drumsticks.
But it didn’t take long before they had pushed their plates away, none too pleased.
It was a speedy recovery of Vegemite sandwiches, Milo and a final insult to injury. Not only was I a useless cook, I was a neglectful mother.
Once my humiliation and disappointment subsided, I was unable to argue with AT about the monstrous drumsticks.
He was right.
They were too big.
They tasted bad.
I think I was most upset by the fact that I had overlooked or worse, disregarded the size of the drumsticks as I handed over my money at the Top Ryde Chicken Shop (name it and shame it).
It wasn’t my fault the chicken was no good, it was my fault for buying it.
We talked about it later and laughed because AT wanted to get all Homer Simpson (the Power Sauce bar episode) and explain that he just couldn’t put that stuff into his body.
So, we have decided to part with the extra cash and go organic. For chicken anyway. I’m sure when I come across a t-bone steak the size of my left thigh (which is quite sizable, let me tell you) I will consider organic beef as well.