I have a list of things I want to do. One of them is to cook every recipe in a cookbook so I’m working my way through Rick Bayless’ Everyday Mexican. I’ve eaten a lot of good stuff. This series is the record of those adventures.
I'd like to call this series "Foods I cooked in November at night in poor lighting conditions and then incompetently color-corrected into fluorescents wonders." How is that? Too self-pitying?
Feeling sorry for myself is really a big fat waste of time because this chicken was good! It was also, uh? Well, it was a whole chicken and there was quite the process to prepping it. The process involved cutting out the backbone and then smashing it into submission until it was sort-of butterflied not to mention pulling out innards.
There are two people who make up my marriage. One spent a childhood killing chickens and one spent the last decade conquering a fear of touching raw meat. Guess which one I am?
So yeah, Arnold was in charge of de-spining/smashing the chicken. He was only too happy to do so though because he is really into chicken. While I cringed in horror reading the directions he happily ripped and banged, gleefully setting aside the organs for later. I made the marinade with orange juice and garlic and ancho chile powder. It was a moment to go down in the "marriage is great!" books. I am good at following directions, Arnold is good at smashing things. Win-win.