Last night my husband and I crockpotted a chicken. I say my husband and I because, although he did all the work, it was my idea thereby making it a joint effort! I awoke this morning, too stinking early I might add, to the yummy aroma of cooked chicken. I pulled it out of the crockpot to cool. After adequate cooling time I attempted to put it into a zippered bag to put in the fridge until it is needed later.
I say attempted for a reason. I managed to maneuver most of the chicken to the bag via large spoon. I don’t really enjoy touching the food I am cooking, it’s a thing I have. Finally, I had to use my hands to manage to get the large breast picked up and in the bag.
Everyone knows you have to save the broth as well, right? Next task, get all the broth into the bag. No problem. Should I use a ladle or pour? Knowing that I would eventually have to pour it anyway, I decided to go for it. Maybe I should preface the rest of this by mentioning that I am The World’s Messiest Cook. I don’t actually yet have a certificate proving this title yet, but I am certain one is in the mail headed my way.
I prop the gallon size zippered bag up and begin to pour. At this point I am feeling pretty proud of myself, the broth is going into the bag and not all over the counter. At about this exact moment, the bag tips and starts pouring chicken broth all over the counter, into the slightly ajar drawer of kids’ cups and onto the floor.
I now am surrounded by The Great Sea of Chicken Slime me. All of my children are outside enjoying the fresh air, and I can’t go anywhere for fear of spreading chicken slime all over the house.
Chicken broth is yummy to use in soups and dishes. It is a nightmare to remove from floors and counters.